


Starcrossed

by gatekat, Verilidaine



Series: Starcrossed [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Bondage, Bonding, Cannibalism, First Time, Gangbang, Genital Mutilation, Kink Meme, M/M, Mech Preg, Murder, Mutilation, Plug and Play, Prostitution, S&M, Sexual Violence, Snuff, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex, Threesome, Torture, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:25:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 53
Words: 460,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verilidaine/pseuds/Verilidaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>G1 AU Jazz/Prowl centric</p><p>The road from knowing their place among the nobility to the SIC and TIC of the Autobots and all the way to Earth is a long and twisted one for two mecha who never saw themselves as shapers of policy or important in the empire.  Along that road Jazz and Prowl find love, loss, pain, terror and victories that shape them into the mecha we know.</p><p> <br/>"I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other."</p><p>    - Mary Shelley, <i>Frankenstein</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Honor over Spark

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags. That's what we have _planned_. This is going to be one of those really brutal stories.

Jazz squirmed in his seat as he listened to Duet drone on and on about the mathematical base that underlined musical theory as it related to advanced composition. His music tutor was well-learned and had an incredibly vast amount of knowledge to offer on the subject, but...he was _boring_. Jazz didn't want to think about numbers and ratios when it came to music, he simply wanted to _move_. But he couldn't do that, either -- at least, not here. In a little while the lesson would end and he could show Prowl the new dance he'd choreographed, a mixture of the proper ballet he'd been attending all his life and a bit of the street performances he'd glimpsed before being quickly hustled away.

As soon as Prowl came to mind, Jazz's thoughts were far, far away from the lesson, which he absently recorded in the back of his processor in case of surprise questions while he allowed his primary attention to wander to the household seneschal.

Prowl was one of the very few mecha who actually treated Jazz as an individual with his own ideas and interests, instead of a noble to be served or a resource to be preserved until it became useful. Prowl listened to him when he talked, answered all of his questions honestly, and was always patient. Jazz tended to ramble when he found something interesting, and more often than not, he was shushed by his elders.

Prowl not only never shushed him, he actually listened and responded. Even though he was technically a member of the servant class, in Jazz's completely sheltered, largely isolated life, he was the only mech whom the young, second creation noble had ever thought of as a friend.

And he was strikingly attractive with a beautiful tenor voice that left Jazz feeling charged just to hear it. If it wasn't for the terms of the arranged bonding...

Jazz sighed to himself. A date had finally been set, three orns after his final adult upgrades. He was arranged to bond with the first creation of a commoner family recently come into immense wealth -- _oligarchy_ , he thought disdainfully. He was _nobility_ , and his creators had made sure that he understood what that meant. He was a class above the rest.

They were old nobility, though, and as they had drifted further from the lines of royalty, so had their economic clout decreased as well. They were, for their class, considered poor. So Jazz was to bond to a commoner, and in return, his family would receive a hefty addition to their coffers. The commoner would then gain the social status that came from being the dominate mate to a noble, and his sparkline would join the nobility through the creations that Jazz bore him.

At least Prowl was also part of the exchange, along with several other of the family's highest-quality servants. Prowl was from a line of seneschals who were well known for their processor power and organizational skills, and as far as Jazz could remember, had always been part of the negotiations.

The arrangement had been made when Jazz was still a youngling, before any of his interfacing equipment or protocols had been installed, and part of the contract was that he be completely untouched in any kind of intimate way. Seals still intact, no knowledge of any intimate acts, no matter how tame. It meant he was escorted everywhere, never accompanied by less than two family attendants whenever he left their compounds, and when at home, he was walked from class to class, from meal to room, observed every klik of every joor, never left without the presence of at least one trusted member of the household staff, except when he was in his private quarters. 

Jazz had never so much as kissed another mech. But he'd already had the interfacing systems installed, and lived with the desires that came with them.

And those desires all pointed at Prowl. He wanted the older mech, badly, and had, for a long time.

He sighed again. At least his creators trusted Prowl, which meant that Jazz could spend almost as much of his free time with him as he wanted.

On the down side, his creators trusted Prowl with good reason. The seneschal was proper, discrete, and always appropriate in his behavior with Jazz. 

The sharp sting of a thin musical baton smacking the back of his wrist made Jazz wince and look up at Duet, who was standing over him, glaring. 

"What was the last thing I said?" Duet asked.

"A proper harmonic is tertian in nature," Jazz repeated. He wasn't supposed to have the recording software that he did, for exactly the reasons he used it for, but he'd managed to get it installed anyway.

Duet gave him a suspicious look, but Jazz looked back with the innocent expression he had perfected a long time ago.

"Very good," the tutor finally said, and returned to his lecture while Jazz immediately returned to thinking about Prowl. As soon as the lesson was over, he quickly made his escape to the seneschal's office and the part of his orn that he actually looked forward to. The door opened automatically for him. He was, after all, Prowl's superior.

"Good afternoon, Jazz. How did your music theory lesson go?" Prowl's rich tenor washed over the young noble.

"Boring," Jazz sighed, dramatically, and walked around Prowl's desk and sat on the edge. "I'm much better now that I'm here," he said, quite honestly, and smiled at Prowl.

The elder mech smiled back, a small but honest curve of his lip plates. "Yet you still manage to learn."

"Because I have someone to impress," Jazz said, grinning back, and leaned over, looking curiously at the lists pulled up on the console. The movement brought him close enough to teek Prowl's very calm, relaxed field and feel Prowl teek him in return, their fields sliding past each other smoothly.

"Oh?" Prowl raised an optic ridge at the mechling that would soon be an adult. Perhaps once Jazz's bonded had enjoyed breaking his seals it would be permissible for the young lord to indulge with others. "You are already committed to a bonding that is unlikely to have your education continued. Why would you need to impress anyone?"

"Because you always seem to know everything there is," Jazz said, meeting Prowl's optics. "I have to be able to keep up with you."

Another small, genuine smile briefly graced Prowl's features. "It only seems that I know everything, Jazz. It is a matter of age, experience, function and special hardware. You do not need to impress me. You have your own gifts."

Jazz's field brightened considerably at the compliment. "I'm still pretty sure you know everything," he teased, then slipped off the desk and raised his arms up over his head, stretching out. "And I'm still going to try to impress you. Can I show you my new dance, if you're not too busy?"

"Of course," Prowl inclined his helm and dutifully focused on the young noble, though he attended to all the duties that he could without appearing distracted.

Jazz hummed happily and moved around the desk to the center of the room, stretching out the rest of the frame. "It's still new," he warned, then turned around, facing the door, and vented out slowly, relaxing for a moment, then raised his arms up over his head in a traditional ballet movement before swinging down and to the side, tossing his helm back and rolling it, bringing in the less traditional influences. 

As he danced, he was intensely aware of Prowl's gaze, and it made his vents stutter slightly whenever he caught it, but he managed to stay focused enough to finish without faltering once. His dance instructor would have thrown a fit about it, but Prowl always watched silently and never insulted, and it was exhilarating. 

He froze in the finish pose, then relaxed, and looked at Prowl, nervous and excited and expectant to see what the seneschal thought.

"You have developed a fine grace and sense for linking the forms," Prowl offered a complement he meant. Every moment of the dance had been recorded for later viewing pleasure. "Yes, Pirouette would be furious to witness your desecration of her art, however she is not here."

Jazz beamed and came forward to sink into the single other chair in the office across from the desk and turned sideways in it, relaxing. "Good thing too," he said. "I like that it's just you." He smiled warmly at Prowl.

"I do enjoy these private dances," Prowl throttled back the purr of his engine even as his optics slid along Jazz's elegant form. It was a frame that should have been indulging in pleasures every night, learning and exploring with age-mates. Instead Jazz could not even have friends for fear of him following the coding of the mechling upgrades and being intimate with another. "You are a pleasant distraction during my duties."

"I'm glad," Jazz said, honestly pleased. He was silent for a few moments, bouncing his pede up and down and watching it before looking back at Prowl. "So, Duet wouldn't tell me anything about abstract tonality, he said it wasn't traditional. I told him that everything wasn't traditional at one point but..." 

Prowl couldn't keep the slight smile from his expression as he listened to the young noble chatter, occasionally adding his own response or answering a question. These were by far the most enjoyable joors of his shifts. It continued until Jazz had to prepare for the evening meal and reluctantly left before his carrier came looking for him.

Prowl allowed a small x-vent of equal parts relief and regret flow from his vents when the door finally closed behind Jazz, leaving him in the blessed and lonely quiet of his office. If Jazz had been promised to almost anyone else they wouldn't have to ghost around each other like this and Prowl wouldn't need to pretend not to feel what he felt. They could never be a couple, never be officially together, but it was acceptable by the nobility for Jazz to have a commoner plaything. It was a title Prowl would gladly endure, along with the shame it brought among his own class, if it meant he could be with Jazz, even for a while. He had no doubt that Jazz would have soon tired of him. It was the way of the nobility after all. Commoners were to be used and discarded, even skilled ones.

He couldn't count the number of servants who had returned to Primus by their own hand rather than be a burden on their descendents when they could no longer work for their keep. He had done his best to help, teaching them how to save up, or doing it for them. He knew in his spark that he would be one such mecha, though for entirely different reasons. He needed to work. Not for the credits, but for his sanity. He had to remain busy or his overclocked processors would lose touch with reality as they struggled for something to do by inventing it.

He'd watched his carrier's carrier extinguish that way, going mad. Watched his carrier begin down that road until he'd grasped what was happening and drove a charged vibro blade into his spark. As much as the loss hurt, Prowl knew his carrier had made the better choice for himself and those around him.

With a sharp shake of his helm Prowl pushed the thoughts aside. He was still relatively young with many centuries of productive functioning still in him. Perhaps, if he were truly lucky, the creation he bore to take his place in his next House would be sired by a mecha he liked well enough to kiss. He was truly grateful that this House had wanted as little influence from the sire of the last one as possible. Three orns of interfacing, of trying to _want_ a creation by the slave they'd rented, had been enough. He couldn't have been more grateful to see the mech go.

With a low growl he flagged all negative emotions to be deleted immediately and tried to settle into work as his meta smoothed out.

* * *

Jazz's spark pulsed in his chest and he _knew_ his vents were too loud, but he couldn't get them to quiet. He just had to hope that no one heard. 

He'd carefully facilitated an unscheduled shift in the arrangement of servants who always kept watch at his door--his family had agreed in the contract to keep a guard posted at all times--and was ducked around a corner, waiting for the mech he'd heard behind him in the hallway to pass by so he could continue on. If all went well, he'd be able to get back in the morning, undetected. 

And before then... 

His spark fluttered again and nothing he could do would control it. Preparations were beginning to take place for his move to Kaon, and even though Prowl was coming with him to the new House, Jazz wanted time with him _here_. And he'd heard rumors, whispered by the rest of the servants, that made him hope that maybe... 

He tried once more, unsuccessfully, to calm himself before he slipped back into the hallway as quietly as he could. He'd never been to his destination before, but he'd always known where it was, and had imagined slipping off there more times than he could count. 

He stopped when he reached the door, raised a hand to chime, then paused, and simply stepped forward, causing it to open automatically to him. He was, after all, a lord in his own House. He had every right to walk in.

Prowl looked up, startled by the sound and movement. He remained still however, his frame relaxed and propped up by pillows on his berth while he read. "Lord Jazz," he said carefully as he stood, more formal than he'd been with Jazz in ages.

The formality struck Jazz in a way that was unfamiliar to him and entirely unpleasant, but he shook it off quickly. "I..." he said, as the door closed behind him after another step. Everything he'd planned to say vanished with the click of the mag-lock, so he took the several strides forward to close the distance between them, moving with a confidence he did not feel.

"You should be in recharge, Lord Jazz," Prowl's frame stiffened, though he managed to stop the step back he wanted to take. Behaving appropriately in his office was one thing, but here, where he recharged, where he fantasized about the mech before him and pleasured himself? Where he even took lovers, pretending it was this mech with him?

"I'd rather be here," Jazz said, voice soft, close enough to touch now, easily close enough to teek. Confusion flitted over his face as he touched Prowl's field and found it a jumble of emotion he wasn't familiar enough with to decipher. He held a hand out towards Prowl's arm, brushing it lightly with his fingertips, trying to see if he could calm the other. "I _want_ to be here."

A low moan dragged itself from Prowl's chassis at the desire in Jazz's field and the touch. "You shouldn't be here," he managed to get out, his frame painfully stiff and still, afraid to move least he finish the motion his processor kept trying to send to his frame. "The contract...."

Emboldened by the moan, Jazz moved his hand up to Prowl's neck. "There are ways that don't leave signs, I _know_ there are. I hear the servants talking about them when they don't think I'm listening. And I've wanted you ever since I knew what wanting was, and I don't _care_ about some stupid contract!" Jazz inhaled and tried to calm his voice back down. "Prowl, _please._ "

Prowl's lips parted, drawing in more air to cool racing systems, but he also drew in much more of the scent that was Jazz. "There are ways," he admittedly shakily. His coding was in a deadlock. Obey the higher ranking mecha, but to do so was to disobey one above Jazz. He wanted to comply, he didn't dare.

He did not dare.

"Lord Jazz, please, the contract. Your family, your future rests on you remaining untouched," Prowl whispered, trying to control the tremors in his frame and the treacherous arousal burning inside him. "When you bond he will _know_. It cannot be hidden from him."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Jazz asked, his voice a desperate, hoarse whisper. "You've never called me that! And I don't care, I'll figure out how to hide it, I'll do whatever I have to, just _please!_ " He leaned in, trying to press their mouths together for a kiss. Prowl froze, then wrapped his arms around Jazz and kissed him back, shaking and afraid that he couldn't stop himself.

Eventually Prowl managed to pull back, his interface panels burning and cooling fans screaming. "Primus you're beautiful. Thinking of you was the only thing that kept me going when I kindled." He lowered his forehelm to touch Jazz's and rested there. "I can barely manage in my office some orns. Here, where I've _thought_ of you ... I need the distance of the title."

Jazz was still, dazed, feeling the friction charge still running over his lips in an entirely new sensation. He nodded in answer, and then carefully slid his hands onto Prowl's waist, every movement new and unfamiliar as he nudged gently with his helm. The kiss had, at least, quelled some of the desperation he'd been feeling, but it didn't make him want any less. "I want you," he whispered. "Before I have to..." 

"You can't. We can't." Prowl trembled in the embrace, scrambling to write a shut-down code to drop himself into a timed stasis. Jazz's lips plates touched his again and he moaned into the contact, kissing back with all the passion he was trying to keep at bay. "Your Intended only wants the power you represent. He'll tire of you quickly. Once he's done with enjoying your newness to interfacing, you should be free to indulge as other nobles do."

Prowl shifted to rest his helm on Jazz's smooth shoulder. "The only other option is to escape, break the contract. You don't want to do that."

"I can't do that," Jazz said, sounding defeated, and rested his head against Prowl's. "I'm just so tired of waiting and I've wanted you for _so long_...I don't know how I'm going to last until then."

"Recharge with me for a few joors," Prowl whispered. "Shut down and let me tweak your coding. It should help enough. Once you've bonded, he'll know you've _wanted_ me, and haven't had me. I can't offer more."

Jazz nodded and followed Prowl to the berth, easily lying down with him. It was not how he had imagined being here, but it was still wonderful to finally, _finally_ curl up next to Prowl's warm frame and bask in the soothing glow of his field. He trusted Prowl implicitly, even if he didn't know why, and would allow Prowl any access to his processors that he asked for. 

The touch to his medical port came as a surprise, but he spiraled it open at the request of the gently circling finger and nearly moaned at the intimate sensation of Prowl's processors slipping into his. As much as he wanted to remain aware for as long as he possibly could to soak in the feeling of _Prowl_ , he didn't last another klik.

With a sigh of relief that at least Jazz was no longer broadcasting lust into his already unsteady systems, Prowl went to work on coding in light blocks on the emotions Jazz felt for him. It wasn't anything that would hold for long, or under extreme duress, but it should at least last the metacycle or two until Jazz's bonded was done with being possessive.


	2. Before the Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warning: Past child snuff (sexual murder)

Jazz watched idly out the window of the transport he was in, reclined back in his seat with his pedes pressed up against the back of the chair in front of him, helm pressed to the glass as he watched Kaon roll past.

It was nothing like Central City. Jazz's home was full of artisans and scientists who filled the city with breathtaking art and innovative technology. Mecha came from everywhere to visit, to learn about the history of one of the most influential cultural cities on the planet. Everything about Central City was built to cater and impress. His home was stunning, an architectural and technological wonder.

Kaon... was not. This city certainly wasn't built to impress, and Jazz doubted very much that it was inclined to cater, either. In fact, it seemed specifically designed to repulse. 

He'd learned about Kaon's history and knew it was an industrial city, but that had done little to prepare him for what that would look like. It was...drab, Jazz finally decided, trying to be positive as he looking at the smog-hazed cityscape. And lifeless. There were no street performers on the corners, and the mecha he did see were larger and bulkier than he was accustomed to. He'd even seen several war builds, something he had never encountered outside of the guard his family employed, and they hadn't looked nearly this dangerous. His creators' guards were neatly polished and disciplined. They were heavily armored, but in a way that still allowed them to show a certain grace of form.

These mecha were heavy, bulky, looked designed to withstand almost anything. More than a few looked like they knew they could from first-hand experience.

Jazz shifted his optics down to look over his own body. He was finally feeling settled in his adult frame, though it had taken a little getting used to. That first look in a reflective glass... 

He had gleaming white, delicate armor that hugged his slender protoform, but that was the same as it had always been. His helm had been upgraded, with another decorative chevron placed behind the first with a golden jewel placed in the middle. The sides had delicate trimming and were now etched with ornate symbols of his class and new House.

He held an arm out, looking at the bright blue and gold highlights that trimmed his armor and decorated his entire frame. Swirling patterns had been painted around his optics and down the sides of his face, accenting the delicate features. His lips were a pale gold, so pale it could hardly be seen against the white unless the light caught it just the right way. His mouth curved up in a private smile. He liked the way he looked, and Prowl had liked it too. 

The seneschal hadn't said as much, but it wasn't hard to tell, especially now that Jazz knew his affection was returned. He offlined his optics and rested his helm back.

Just over a metacycle had passed since he'd snuck into Prowl's quarters, excited and impulsive, desperate for a taste of the older mech and unwilling to give in. The blocks Prowl had coded into his processor that night had helped with the desperation and impatience, but hadn't changed how deeply he wanted the other.

The fact that Prowl absolutely returned that feeling....

Jazz shivered, looking forward to a future when he could claim the seneschal as his right. 

"I wish it was you breaking my seals," Jazz had whispered one day in Prowl's office. Forbidden words, from a noble to a servant, but he'd meant them. "If I could, it would be you."

Prowl had shivered, his engine giving a sharp whine of _want_. His reply still whispered through Jazz's processor, "It would have been my greatest honor."

After that night, Jazz had continued his visits to Prowl's office as always, talking with him about his day, his interests, whatever happened to cross through his processor. Sometimes, though, the talk had shifted to their future, full of soft exchanges of mutual desire, promises, shy admittances of how they'd both fantasized about this and what they imagined. 

Jazz onlined his optics and looked back out the window. They were getting close to the new compounds. In the time it had taken him to fully mature, his Intended had gained his own grounds and palace. Jazz would bond to him, create with him, start his own House.

He was excited. Nervous, yes, and not sure about this city, but he was sure he could grow to enjoy life here.

And Prowl would be there with him. 

There may have been many things he would have preferred to be different right now, but the future looked bright in the long run.

The confinement of close industry suddenly disappeared outside the window and Jazz sat up, watching as the grounds came into view. They were massive, with gardens that stretched out past the palace that sat in the middle. It was _giant_. Jazz tried to calm his pulsing spark as he stared at it. This was going to be _his_ House. His creations would have those entire grounds to play and grow in. And if everything went well, as soon as his Intended had verified that he was untouched and had enjoyed Jazz's newness, he would be able to take lovers as he pleased. 

Yes, definitely bright in the long run. 

* * *

A different transport and what might as well have been a world away, Prowl also watched the grounds of his new House coming into view. Unlike Jazz, his thoughts were centered around what it would be like to run this compound, the new tasks and regulations he would be learning, but he was also considering his future with the young noble. Although not more than being his lover, Prowl was looking forward to securing opportune futures for Jazz's creations. His relationship with the young noble was different from what he'd had with his creators, and he knew that any advice offered would be happily accepted. 

Prowl was good with numbers and making credits grow. He'd discovered a natural talent for it in helping other servants save as much as they could that seemed beyond what any of them were capable of. He'd watched his last House's finances decrease with completely unnecessary losses, leading them to the final desperate act of all but selling their second creation. Even though Prowl was the highest of his class, he was still too many steps below nobility to offer unsolicited advice on such a private matter. 

They passed through the grounds and arrived at the front gates, and then the front entrance, where a small group of mecha was waiting. In the middle, a mid-sized mech, an ornately decorated rotor frame, surrounded by what looked like other members of the House. 

Jazz's Intended.

Vortex.

Lord Vortex to the likes of Prowl.

He did not like what he'd learned of the rotor, his kin or acquaintances, professionally or privately. He'd made inquiries about his future lord, routine ones, and when the replies had been concerning, he'd pressed deeper through the ties he had in his class. 

This House was one that lower class servants were warned to avoid. There were also more than a few suspicious incidents involving other commoners, and Vortex had been blacklisted by almost every courtesan who had financial records linking to him and by many of the pleasurebot houses as well. It just made Prowl all the more determined to watch out for Jazz and his creations. 

The two transports landed in front of the gathering and Prowl disembarked, getting a good look at the mech in question, whose gaze swept over him and the rest of the servants who were gathering without a single pause before focusing on the first transport, without so much as a gesture of welcome or acknowledgement. Acceptable behavior from a lord in his House, though not something Prowl or the others were accustomed to. Prowl bowed his head subserviently nevertheless. 

Vortex didn't even look. He was much too focused on the young noble who had just emerged. 

Jazz was breathtaking in the sunlight, and Vortex was definitely taking notice of the slender frame, smaller than his in both height and mass. Jazz held his arms out and dipped his head while bringing his hands in over his spark in a perfectly-executed formal greeting, one that seemed specifically designed to highlight his grace and form. Jazz held in position while Vortex looked him up and down in a way that made Prowl's spark clench.

This wasn't the way one looked at one's Intended when first meeting him. It wasn't right on so many levels. Even the lowest servant knew how to behave better. Though he kept still and kept silent, there was no way those who knew him, which was the entire contingent that came in the two shuttles, could miss the tension and disapproval he was radiating.

If Prowl had the rank to do so, Vortex would have been on his knees, his rotors being twisted until he recited everything he'd done wrong. Brutal but efficient, it was a training method Prowl knew and used very well to instill discipline in rebellious youths. Only Vortex was not a youth and not of a rank that Prowl could discipline.

So he waited and watched with growing unease as Vortex's gaze turned decidedly pleased and downright greedy. This far away and from this angle, it was impossible to get a good read of Jazz's reaction, but the noble's frame was starting to tense as the silence dragged on and Vortex didn't answer the greeting with the appropriate words or movements. 

"Welcome, I suppose," the rotor finally said. He didn't look like he was going to do more than that, and it was with some confusion and much hesitation that Jazz finally relaxed out of the pose.

"Intended," Jazz murmured, at least keeping up his half of the formalities. 

"Sure," Vortex said, and then _leered_ , optics focusing everywhere but Jazz's face as he continued to take in the shining frame. "And I'm sure I'll enjoy getting to know you." He waved a hand dismissively. "Someone will show you to the quarters you will use tonight. You can clean yourself up there." That same leer. "See you at the ceremony."

Vortex turned around and walked back inside while most of the mecha with him. Two remained, both servants, and one came up to Jazz with a warm smile. "If you will follow me, Lord Jazz," he said, bowing. 

Jazz took a step forward, then paused as he turned around and sought out Prowl's gaze, looking uncertain of himself. The greeting had obviously thrown him. 

Prowl did his best to give an encouraging wave of his doorwings before focusing on the servant before him. "I would have a brief tour of the estate, of what is not covered in the packet we received, before we are shown to our quarters."

After the tour of the areas of the estate that he would be primarily working in, Prowl was shown to his new quarters. They were simple and plain, and very small for a servant of his class, not that size was something Prowl cared about. His few personal belongings had already been delivered and he looked them over, making sure everything was accounted for, before heading to the servants' washracks. He could settle in later. Right now he wanted to heat away the ache of long travel.

There were several others already there. They weren't anyone Prowl had met personally, though he recognized one as the servant who had shown Jazz to his quarters. None of them were in the brief list he'd been given of mecha he would be working directly with. 

Three were likely cleaners, from the looks of their frames, the personal aide who had shown Jazz in, and the last was definitely a hired pleasurebot. 

"Did you see the new lord?" the aide asked, not concerned by Prowl's presence as the Praxian selected a showerhead and turned it on to a relatively high temperature.

"Shining bit of frame he's got," one of the cleaners grunted back. "You know how Lord Vortex likes that." 

"And he's kind," the aide sighed. "Poor thing."

"Why?" Prowl asked politely, sure they were all aware he was there.

The pleasurebot glanced at the aide before looking back at Prowl. "The rumors are that he's untouched, yes? Still unbroken?" 

"In other words, fresh energon for Master's berth," a different cleaner said, with an unpleasant grin.

"Yes, he is completely untouched," Prowl fixed the pleasurebot with a gaze that could make errant noble younglings quiet, then shifted it to the cleaner. "Do explain."

The grin didn't go away. "Well," he said, leaning his helm back under the water. "Put it this way... the entire estate can tell when Lord Vortex is breaking seals." 

"And afterwards, how long does he keep a berthwarmer?" Prowl intentionally used the most degrading term he knew, just to see what kind of response it got. It should have caused a small verbal riot in any House that the servants cared about their Lord or his reputation.

The aide looked uncomfortable and glanced away while the cleaners snickered. 

"It depends," the pleasurebot said, drawing Prowl's attention. "Most are lucky, and he'll only use for a short while, but the unbroken ones... it depends on how resilient they are."

"Then how long Lord Jazz appeals to him will depend on how long it takes to break his will," Prowl hummed. "What else does Lord Vortex like in his berth?"

The pleasurebot glanced at the aide again, not answering Prowl for a moment while their optics met. "You don't understand," she finally said, looking back. "It's not a matter of whether he still appeals to Lord Vortex, it's..." She trailed off, shifting her weight nervously. 

The third in the group of cleaners snorted. "If they come in factory new, they don't leave until they're spare parts," he grunted. "Not a one. _Lord_ Vortex likes 'em new, doesn't like to share." 

"And as for what else Lord Vortex likes..." the pleasurebot said, and shuddered. "You would do well to not catch his attention, good or bad." She looked back at the aide, who was trembling and had backed himself against the wall. "It might be different for Lord Jazz, since they're to be bonded," she offered, before going to the aide and running familiar, calming hands over his frame. 

Prowl's focus shifted to the aide and softened. "I suspect I have a reasonable estimation if the reports I have access to are true. What catches his attention?"

"Mistakes," the aide said, slowly relaxing as the pleasurebot comforted him, but the waver was still in his voice as he spoke. "Definitely mistakes. Or being too pretty. Being in the same room as him when he's in a bad mood, or a good one..." He hesitated for a moment. "And do your best to keep off active duty when he has a gathering planned. If they so much as see you..."

Prowl inclined his helm in acceptance of the answer and permission for the aide to stop. "What are his tastes in pretty?"

"Lord Jazz certainly applies," the pleasurebot said, pausing in her soft trilling to answer. "You're not bad yourself, though a little big. He goes for smaller frames, usually." She hummed thoughtfully. "If you're worried and want to give some of yours a fair warning, he keeps records of most everything. They'll show the berthwarmers." 

"Can hardly call 'em that if they don't even make it to the berth," the first cleaner joked. 

The pleasurebot shot a sharp look his way that made the mech practically cower. 

"Keeps the recordings for his _parties_ ," she said disdainfully. "They're in the public files, so visitors can access them. You don't want to watch more than a couple dozen nanokliks of any."

Prowl paused and filtered through the systems he was already logged into and found the public recordings. The first one looked like it was taken from a camera mounted high in the wall and showed a young servant, tied up and shivering on the floor. He was on his knees, helm to the floor, with his arms wrenched behind his back at an impossible looking angle that had almost certainly broken the shoulder joints. A bar connecting his ankles kept his legs spread wide. 

Vortex appeared behind him and in moments, sank his claws into the mech's valve cover and ripped the piece completely off in a single tear, tossed it aside, then swung his hand back and slashed his claws over the exposed panel, shredding the softer metal.

It was all Prowl could take unprepared and he shut the recording off with a shudder. He'd known that Vortex was a sadist. It wasn't exactly a secret. But everyone had assumed that he was a sane one, a socially responsible one, the kind that took masochists, or at least paid very well for the services rendered. His gaze found the pleasurebot's. "Who do you serve here?"

"I am here for the pleasure of the servants," she murmured. "To help meet the needs of anyone who does not have another means of release."

Prowl inclined his helm to her, his doorwings giving respect to her profession and her duties. At least among the nobility, it was a respected function for the House to employ, a mark of wealth that they could afford to care for such needs of their servants. A quick search turned up her designation. "I am Prowl, Porcelain. If you would find the time to introduce yourself to those that came with me, I would appreciate it. None are currently mated."

Her optics brightened considerably and she inclined her helm. "I will be sure to do so, seneschal," she said, turning fully away from the calmed aide to face him. "And you? Shall I have the honor of your acquaintance?"

"Occasionally," Prowl decided. "Once I have settled and have time for diversions."

She smiled and settled back under the water. "I look forward to it." Her expression shifted and turned more serious. "Warn your mecha, do whatever possible to avoid attracting Lord Vortex's attention."

"I will. Thank you," he said as he began sending comm messages with the basics of what got the Lord's attention and links to the public files for what happened to those who failed. Then he pinged Jazz's comm with the special encryption he'd developed for them.

::Prowl,:: Jazz answered immediately, affection coming through strongly. 

::We must meet, before the ceremony,:: Prowl replied, the strain and fear clear in his one as he finished his shower and began a walk of the grounds. ::Your Intended is not the mech we thought he was.::

There was a pause. ::Of course,:: Jazz said. ::These servants are not accustomed to keeping a watch on me, it will be easy to get past them.::

::Good,:: Prowl's relief was palatable even over the comm line. ::After midnight,:: he pinged a location, as well as the full security schematic of the estate. ::Be careful.::

::I will,:: Jazz promised, flickering with confusion and concern over Prowl's request. His voice softened. ::It has been too long since I've seen you.::

::I know,:: Prowl murmured. ::I will see you later.:: He added before closing the comm and working to make sure that what he had of the security network really was all of it.

* * *

The corner of the garden grotto that Prowl had found was out of the way, sheltered from above and did not have harmonics that carried sound well. It was an easy place to be trapped, but right now that was a secondary concern. He had to _talk_ to Jazz first, and this time his presentation of an escape was not going to be an idle one to force the youth to think. It was a detailed plan meant to be acted on to save that youth's life.

Prowl lifted his head at a sound, alert, and moments later Jazz slipped into sight. He was decorated with symbols of his new House. 

"Prowl," Jazz said, relieved to find him waiting, and closed the distance between them. He hadn't seen the seneschal in far too long and didn't hesitate to pull him into a kiss. Bonding be damned, he was at least going to have that much.

Prowl's vents hitched, nearly stalling, before he kissed back, hot and fiercely. White fingers rubbed against Jazz's dataport, asking for access. It spiraled open under his touch and Jazz made a quiet, surprised sound at the intensity coming off of Prowl. His hands came up to rest on the seneschal's chest. Prowl's focus was on the hardline connection, navigating the exchange of passwords and clearances until he felt secure.

His lips never leaving Jazz's while his hands moved along the beautiful chassis, Prowl uploaded several files for Jazz along with strong warnings of their contents.

~He'll never let another touch you,~ Prowl's pain was clear, but even more was his fear for Jazz over something that had nothing to do with _them_ and everything to do with Vortex.

Jazz's vents stalled immediately and his focus on the kiss faltered, and he pulled back, optics widening. ~But...~ He opened the first file, a summary of the conversation Prowl had had in the washracks, and horrified realization swept over him as he focused in on one fact, skipping right past everything else. 

He would _never_ be allowed to have Prowl. 

~You said-- _you said!_ ~ he cried, hands shooting up to Prowl's shoulders and grabbing. ~Prowl--~ He pressed back into the kiss, frantic desperation and pure _want_ consuming his field as the blocks shattered. Everything he'd craved poured back out, his longing and need for Prowl rushing forward. 

With the hardline already open, the emotions slammed into him and Prowl could barely think past responding to Jazz's desires. They were on the ground with Jazz's frame covered by his larger servant, feeling the heat beginning to burn inside Prowl as white hands frantically tried to answer Jazz's need.

~Once, just once,~ Jazz was begging, already responding to Prowl's touches as he tried to mimic the movements, his own hands faltering and catching in the unfamiliar act of running them down another mecha's frame. ~I'm sorry, I don't know--I'm not sure...~

~Let me,~ Prowl moaned, breaking the kiss to run his lips down Jazz's neck, licking and kissing the sensitive cabling while his fingers sought out gaps in Jazz's armor. He didn't care about his own pleasure, though he was feeling a great deal in feedback and it felt _good_.

Jazz whimpered in compliance and tilted his head back, exposing his neck fully, and shifted his hands to settle on the edges of Prowl's doorwings. He stroked up and down the smooth surfaces, wanting to do at least something for Prowl and hoping the doorwings would be sensitive enough. Prowl's glossa on his cabling was making it hard to think, hard to remember to keep moving his hands, and he realized more than once that they had stopped when he was able to focus past the unfamiliar haze of pleasure.

~Yes, it feels very good, my lovely, beautiful Jazz,~ Prowl whispered through the hardline. His hands settled on Jazz's hips for a brief moment before pressing into the large gaps the joints made. He was aware that his spike had extended fully and was tingling, pleading for contact, as was his exposed valve, but was determined that he would ask nothing of his lover.

~Good,~ Jazz gasped, his vents stalling out at the end of almost every intake as he squirmed and arched beneath the seneschal. His grip tightened and he moaned, his processor racing incomprehensibly as Prowl's fingers danced in his hips and his glossa stroked over heating plating. ~Good, good, Prowl, Primus this is good, don't stop...~

~I won't,~ Prowl promised, though he made the extra effort to mute Jazz's vocalizer for him. Then one hand moved away from a hip to bury itself in a wheel well, teasing and tweaking the suspension that had seen little use.

Jazz's body jerked up at the touch and his mouth fell open silently as he shivered, small lines of charge starting to build and shine beneath his plating. ~Wanted you for so long,~ he sent, one of the few thoughts he was able to pull. ~Wanted _this_ , never thought--~ His thoughts scattered when Prowl's fingers _slid_ along a cable, then back down, and only the Praxian's firm hold on his voice kept him from crying out.

~It gets far better than this,~ Prowl's thought was a moan, his frame trembling with the building charge as he used everything he knew to draw out Jazz's bliss despite all the warnings that this was a bad idea, forbidden, would deactivate them both. ~Once a lover knows your frame. So much better.~ His thoughts swirled, carefully shielded from Jazz, about the difference between untouched and simply new to Vortex. The new eventually lost their luster and were left alone. He could make Jazz used goods in Vortex's optic. It would be the end of his spark, it might break the contract, shame the House his sparkline had served for generations, but it would save Jazz. Eventually.

~Better,~ Jazz echoed, all but lost and completely unaware of Prowl's thoughts as a surge of _want_ pushed through the hardline, wanting Prowl to know his frame, wanting Prowl to be his lover, wanting a future he could never have with an intensity that made him sob at the next slide of glossa. 

Above him Prowl shuddered and moaned. It was a cruel thing, but he began to pulse energy into Jazz's systems over the hardline. It wasn't the connection normally used for pleasurable interfacing, but as wound up as Jazz was it gave Prowl enough of an edge to push his lover to the crest of his first overload and somehow maintain his own self-awareness.

The charge skyrocketed in Jazz's system and his fingers clenched down as he instinctively tried to fight the unfamiliar release, sending his processors spinning as he did while his senses reeled. ~Prowl,~ he whimpered. ~Is--~

~Let go,~ Prowl crooned. ~Let it happen.~ 

Jazz's helm slammed back into the ground and his mouth opened in a silenced scream that he still heard in his processors. He was lost to the running charge as it crackled over and through his frame, burning through him, making his plating lock and his protoform shudder. 

It burned out too quickly and he slumped down, cooling vents kicking up as he tried to put his processor back into working order. 

Over him Prowl kissed him gently and tried to relax despite the level of current ricocheting through his systems. It would be so very easy to overload right now, but he needed to cool down and get them to both think again.

~Jazz?~ he lightly prodded his lover, checking for awareness.

Jazz flickered a dazed, unsteady affirmative and onlined his optics after several tries. He looked up at Prowl as his systems continued to settle, and with fingers still shaking from the overload, wrapped around the back of Prowl's neck and pulled him down into another soft kiss that was returned eagerly.

~We _must_ escape. Run, hide, get away from here and that monster you're betrothed to,~ Prowl's tone was as firm as anything Jazz had ever heard.

Jazz pulled out of the kiss, his hazy post-overload bliss disappearing immediately. ~I _can't_ ,~ he said, despairing. ~You know the shame that would bring my family, they would lose _everything._ ~

~Look at what he's going to do to you, never letting another touch you, until he gutters your spark,~ Prowl pushed towards the video clips and the links to the full events in the main system.

Jazz cringed away from them and Prowl, shaking his helm desperately. ~He wasn't bonded to any of those mecha, it might be different for me, he wouldn't break a sparkbond like that, no one would!~

~You don't understand. He would. He gets off on pain. There are other vids where he kills while hardlined, screaming as he overloads on the death,~ Prowl's absolute terror at what he was sure was Jazz's fate rode every glyph, every link and memory that he desperately wanted to scrub from his processors. ~Your status won't protect you once he has an heir from you.~

Jazz froze. ~My family,~ he protested, weakly, clinging to Prowl and shaking as Prowl pushed forward a single frame of exactly what he'd described, making Jazz sob when he saw it, terror spiking through him.

~Your spark, your creation being raised by that monster,~ Prowl was shaking, his charge still too high to be easily controlled. ~I can get us away, keep us safe. At least long enough for this to settle. If we're caught, you were mechanapped.~

Jazz's optics shot to Prowl as the image of Vortex raising and teaching _his_ sparkling became all too vivid. It made him sick, and then the idea of carrying for him made it worse. His coding tangled in a deadlock--loyalty to his creators warring against protecting his creations. Prowl felt it, and with a decidedly guilty sensation, forced Jazz to look at another sequence. A small frame, screaming and thrashing as it was clawed apart, but that was just the setting. The warm-up. Suddenly it cut to Vortex driving his spike and overloading into the guttering spark chamber of the youngling.

Jazz choked in horror and his entire frame spasmed in pain just to see it, much less to imagine it as his own creation. 

~I'll go with you,~ he whispered, shuddering, holding onto Prowl tightly.

A huge amount of tension unwound from Prowl's frame, which was all his arousal needed to push itself to the forefront of his awareness. Reluctantly he pushed himself up and moved to stand.

~Wait,~ Jazz said, grabbing his hand, making him pause. Decision made, the horror of what might have happened was starting to fade and he stared at Prowl with huge, bright optics. His processor was rapidly adapting to the sudden change and rewriting his expectancies for both the near and distant future. ~I'll go with you,~ he repeated, slowly, as the words solidified into a real, tangible idea. ~I can be _your_ lover, I can carry for _you_ , you can...~ He paused as his optics moved over Prowl's frame, looking at him in a completely different perspective. They froze on the still-extended spike and his vents hitched. ~You can break my seals,~ he breathed.

Prowl trembled and knelt next to Jazz, lowering his helm to rest their forehelms together. ~Once we are away from here. It takes time to do it right. Time we don't have.~

~At least let me...~ Jazz said, and reached out, touching a single finger to the tip of Prowl's spike, circling once. ~Please? I can feel you still need to.~ His other hand moved up to touch the other end of the hardline on Prowl's frame.

~Yessss,~ Prowl moaned deeply, his hips rolling into the touch.

Jazz gave a soft, startled yelp at the reaction and quickly formed his fingers into a loose fist around the length, pushing himself up on his elbow. ~I--I don't know how,~ he stammered, apologetic, as he stroked once, optics darting back and forth between the spike and Prowl's face. The features he'd long considered beautiful were stunning now, relaxed in pleasure. Ice blue optics dimmed and shuttered, full lip plates parted.

~Won't take much,~ Prowl moaned, his engine revving higher as he leaned down to kiss Jazz, soft and supple, full of tender want and a promise for the future.

Jazz moaned in reply as Prowl's arousal and pleasure echoed back through to him and he repeated the motion while parting his lips for Prowl's gently prodding glossa, gasping softly when it met his and swirled, sending his processors spinning. With each stroke up and down, more of Prowl's enjoyment fed through the hardline and he sped up, encouraged, enjoying the way the warm metal tingled with charge under his fingers.

With a quiver and reluctant sound, Prowl disconnected the hardline pulled back, out of Jazz's hand and half turned away from him. "Against my back. Watch. You need to stay clean."

Jazz quickly shifted up to his knees and pressed his frame against Prowl's, chest to his back, and resting his chin on his shoulder while he brushed his fingers back and forth over the doorwings. Prowl's plating was hot and Jazz watched with bright optics, trembling and aroused just from the sight. Prowl shivered at the contact, the pleasure spiking just from the hands on his doorwings, before he remembered his spike.

A soft moan escaped the Praxian as he slid his hand down, rubbing his palm along the underside of his spike, before curling his fingers around the base and stroking upwards, then down. His hips rolled into his touch, the long-familiar pleasure-giver, and he gave himself over to the rising tide of the charge.

"You look incredible," Jazz whispered, one hand sliding down Prowl's back and slipping under the doorwing, stroking over Prowl's hip while the other continued to brush over the doorwing. His gaze never left Prowl's spike and the way the seneschal's hand moved over it, memorizing every stroke and movement as he pressed his lips to Prowl's neck and licked there.

It was more than Prowl could take and he moaned deeply, his frame stiffening as he arched back, pressing against Jazz as energy crackled across his frame, along his spike and through the thick, creamy-purple fluid that was ejected.

Jazz's optics focused sharply on the sight and he trembled as he felt the overload charge move over Prowl's frame. The sight kicked new coding to the front of his processor. "Want that," he moaned quietly. "Primus I want that, want you."

"Soon," Prowl whispered as he came down, still shaking. "I want to teach you about it all."

"Can't wait," Jazz murmured, lips still pressed to Prowl's neck. He exhaled shakily and drew more cool air in, moving away. "What do we do? How do we get out, just tell me what to do, I'll do it." 

Prowl started to answer, but footfall from right behind them made their heads snap up and turn in time to see three estate guards come around the corner.

Jazz scrambled up, spark flaring in alarm and processor racing. He was a lord in this House, a noble by birth, and these mecha would--should--listen to him. They couldn't have seen anything. "On your way," he commanded, only long practice keeping his voice steady.

"Lord Vortex commands that you be escorted to your quarters and held there under guard," the large mech informed him even as the other two moved in on Prowl. While the Praxian had retracted and covered his spike, there was no denying the fresh transfluid evidence as they grabbed him.

"No!" Jazz gasped as they grabbed Prowl. He tried to step forward, but the guard who had spoken grabbed him from behind, gripping his upper arms and pulling back. "Release him!" Jazz said, struggling. "Let _go!_ " 

The guard growled and yanked him back, almost lifting him as he did. He was larger and easily stronger than Jazz and kept him restrained while they other two forced Prowl onto his knees and bound his wrists behind his back. 

Jazz moaned as one of the guards drew a blaster from his subspace and held it to Prowl's helm.

"Let's go," the guard holding him said, and dragged Jazz away. 

Jazz fought uselessly and was dragged around the corner, back into the gardens. "What are you going to do to him?"

"His fate will be Lord Vortex's pleasure," the guard said, and hefted Jazz up, slinging him over his shoulder and carrying him in. 

::Jazz, this was my doing,:: Prowl's tone was firm, even an order, despite never having had close to that right. ::Remember that. I lured you. I did this. All of it.::

The comm line shut down before Jazz could respond and he slumped, not moving until he was tossed unceremoniously into his quarters and the doors shut with the click of a lock. He lay where he'd landed, shaking, as sobs started to escape him. 


	3. Breaking Frames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New warning: Genital mutilation  
> Inspiration for Vortex's spike: <https://www.furaffinity.net/view/5940133/> lower one (NSFW - requires an account)  
> Inspiration for Prowl's spike: <https://www.furaffinity.net/view/8531340/> (NSFW - requires an account)  
> 

Prowl kept his fear carefully to himself as the two guards dropped him to his knees on a dais in what he took to be Lord Vortex's berth chamber. It had a grand berth and it was part of the Lord's chambers, at any rate. He would have tried to escape but he'd already calculated the odds and it would only leave him injured for longer. He was pushed forward by a hand on the back of his neck while his arms were both yanked out and back.

It hurt, straining cables and gears, but he did his best to settle into the posture. There was no point to expending energy in struggle when there was no escape yet.

A door opened and heavy, measured steps entered the room, coming over to stop in front of Prowl. A dark, cold field washed over him and the low rumble of powerful engines filled the air. 

"What made you think you could touch something of mine and get away with it?" Vortex asked, a growl behind the words.

There really wasn't a good answer to that, so he went with the truth. It wasn't as if he was likely to survive until dawn. "I calculated that it would not be discovered."

Claws grabbed his helm and pushed, forcing his head up and back further than it was designed to go, stretching the cables in his neck. 

"You calculated wrong," Vortex snarled. "Nothing happens here that I am unaware of." He released his helm, snapping the head back down. "Tell me, what do you think will happen to you?"

"Tortured and deactivated, likely in a public execution," Prowl answered with the same even tone despite the fear trying to take hold. He did not want to hurt. He definitely did not want to deactivate.

Vortex chuckled darkly. "Eventually," he said, and stepped back. "First... oh, we're going to have so much fun before then. Bind him and get out," he snapped at the two guards. 

They moved quickly, dragging Prowl up to his pedes and yanking his arms up over his head, fastening them into chains that had lowered from the ceiling. His ankles were locked into cuffs attached by a long bar, identical to the one he'd seen used in the videos on other victims, forcing his legs apart. 

Task completed, the guards fled the room and Vortex stepped forward, looming over Prowl. He wrapped his hand around the right side of Prowl's neck, the tip of one claw resting on the spot where Jazz had licked and kissed while Prowl overloaded. 

"Does he _care_ for you, or are you a plaything?" the rotor questioned.

"I don't know," Prowl admitted the truth no matter how much it hurt. He knew what Jazz had said, but there was no telling how real it was. Not at such a young age.

"And you?" came the next hiss as the claw began to dig in.

A small sound came out of Prowl as the pain began to register and he committed to protecting Jazz as much as he could. "I have wanted him since his mechling upgrade."

Vortex snarled at the words and sank the rest of his claws in. "A servant wanting his better," he mocked. "Pathetic. Almost as pathetic as him letting you _touch_ him." He twisted his hand and pulled it out, bringing a cluster of wires and torn plating with him. 

Prowl screamed. He didn't spend the energy to resist. He didn't know how to shut down the feed from his sensors, but with the full attention of his processor directed at it, it didn't take him long to dull the pain to a dull throb and close off the fluid flows that had been ruptured.

"Oh, you're going to be a fun one," Vortex said with leer, watching him. "I'm going to strip away every part of you that he touched, everything you used to pleasure him." He grabbed Prowl around the neck and lifted up until the Praxian was dangling in his hold. "Starting with these," he snarled, then leaned in and sank sharpened denta around Prowl's lip plates, bit down and tore back, ripping them off in his mouth. 

Ice blue optics blazed pure white and unseeingly bright with pain like Prowl had never experienced. Reflexes made him thrash, try to pull away, anything to escape the one who was hurting him. Even if he hadn't been bound it would have been ineffective. He wasn't built to take on a Kaonite.

Vortex watched silently until Prowl had recovered enough of himself to see again, then made a show of baring his denta in a grin, displaying the torn, energon-covered plating he held in his mouth before chewing it slowly, grinding the metal and licking his own lips as he swallowed. He brought Prowl back in and drew his glossa over the wounds, sucking at the energon there, then pressed his mouth to Prowl's audial. "And when we're all done with that, you'll watch me do the same to him."

"No!" Prowl couldn't stop the reflexive denial, a thoughtless demand that it not happen. "Not his fault."

"Yesss," Vortex hissed as his engines revved. "I need the status I'll gain by breeding him, and I don't have the time to wait for another hapless noble family to whore out their creation. That pretty bit of frame is _mine_ , and I'm going to cleanse it of your filth." 

Prowl engine growled, a sound that he didn't even recognize as his own. "Hurt him and you can't breed him."

"He _will_ kindle," Vortex snapped. "Even if he doesn't want to, I'll find something he wants badly enough, once I'm done breaking his spirit." A knowing sneer. "You, perhaps? Your life?" Vortex let go of Prowl's neck, letting him drop. "It's a shame, he didn't have to suffer this way. I needed him to like me well enough to drop a few heirs before I _really_ enjoyed him." He turned away with an exaggerated shrug, going to the wall and opening a compartment there. "But plans change, and this will be far more enjoyable." He turned back around, holding something Prowl didn't recognize, a short black cylinder. His grin was _hungry._ "I can't wait to hear him scream while I tear into his valve, can you?" He snapped his thumb up, and a low flame erupted out of the end of the tool. 

Infrared informed him it was hot enough to melt thin plating and maybe half the wires in his frame, but not a lot more. That was an instrument meant to _hurt_ , not kill. Scrambling, Prowl focused everything inward, even his optics dimming almost black as he found the controls to regulate sensor input and shut them down.

His entire frame went limp. Still conscious, but without sensor feed going in, his protocols refused to send commands out.

Vortex frowned as his victim went limp and snapped the torch back off, stalking over. He slapped Prowl across the face once, then harder, with claws, tearing through plating. Nothing. 

He growled and pulled a cord from his wrist and shoved it into a jack on Prowl's neck. "Let's see what it's done, then," he muttered to himself while he pushed his awareness forward, forcing a link-up with the still mech. He slammed face first into some of the most complicated firewalls he'd ever encountered. So his plaything was fully aware, just not of his frame. 

Vortex unplugged with a growl. Annoying, but he could have that fixed soon enough. 

* * *

Prowl jerked back into connection with his frame with enough speed to catch the scream being torn from him by the sudden input. He knew there was a mech next to him speaking, but his processors were too tattered to make enough sense of it. He was sure it was the monster that had broken into his systems and made changes, then locked them in place. He still wasn't sure what the changes were, but obviously one was to turn his sensors back on.

Vortex's face loomed in front of him, taking up most of his visual feed. There was a huge grin on the rotor's face and his mouth was moving in speech that gradually became clearer. 

"...happen again," Vortex finished, looking into Prowl's slowly focusing optics. He patted the facial plating where he'd torn through, sending fresh sensory input up to his victim's processor. Prowl flinched away, though the sob that joined it was more from the still-jumbled mess of his processors and the effort it took to pull his firewalls together. Spark-deep instinct demanded he protect them over his frame.

"You're dismissed," Vortex said to the hacker, who was unplugging from Prowl's neck. "Get out." 

The small mech bowed and backed out of the room. Vortex couldn't be bothered to watch as he turned back to Prowl. He lifted the torch and flipped it back on, holding it in front of his optics. "Now... where were we?"

Pale ice blue optics focused on the torch, and Vortex could easily read what his victim was thinking. Face? Optics? Throat? Wheels? Interface panels? The list of places it could really, really hurt was extensive.

He grinned. Those would all come, eventually, but right now he had a very specific list to work through. 

The lips had been taken care of, and the side of Prowl's neck. That left most of the shoulders and chest plating that needed to be melted away, as well as one of the hips and the entire helm. The hands, doorwings, and spike would all have to go as well. 

And Prowl would stay alive and conscious. Vortex had ensured that. If his systems lost too much energon or came too close to deactivation, an emergency signal would activate for a medic. 

Moving the flame back and forth, watching Prowl's optics tracking it, Vortex tried to make the impossible choice of which piece should go first. Bright golden optics trailed along Prowl's frame, weighing each option. Some would cause more pain, some were more likely to result in shock and end his fun for a while, but one mixed intense pain, great psychological harm and a low risk.

Slowly Vortex ghosted the torch over every spot that was on his hit list, everything Jazz had touched and pleasured. Watched gleefully as it finally registered in Prowl what was coming and soaked in the sharp keen of denial and panic as Prowl tried to pull away.

It didn't get him anywhere, and Vortex knew allowing the struggle would only hurt Prowl more. He lifted the torch to a fingertip, following it smoothly as Prowl thrashed. He had plenty of experience and Prowl had none, which would make this more enjoyable in so many ways. Watching the shock in a mecha's optics as they experienced levels of agony they'd never felt before was a sublime joy.

Vortex moved the flame up and down every finger until he reached the smallest and pulled it back. He would start with that one, he decided, and dialed up the intensity, making the torch as hot as he dared, and held it right to the tip. The plating started to warp and glow immediately. His engine purred deeply as he felt as much as heard Prowl's agony in the initial scream. The mech had a strong spark, if the flares were any indication, and that meant he'd withstand plenty of damage cycles before it gave up and escaped his mercies.

Golden optics greedily watched the living metal slowly drip away, exposing sensitive wires, tiny gears and actuators and the sensor net that carried the massive dataload from the hands to the processors that controlled them. Tiny, delicate internals that didn't last more than a nanoklik when the heat reached them, giving out bright, colorful flares as the different metals burned and warped.

Prowl's gaze was locked on the damage as much as he could manage, which was only sporadic. He had no idea anything could _hurt_ like that. Not even his powerful processors could do anything about it. And this was just _one_ finger. He groaned as it melted away under the press of the flame, feeling his world lurch sickeningly when he tried to contemplate how much was left.

Vortex's optics _shone_ as he destroyed the first finger and moved to the next. "I'll do the same to _him_ ," he whispered in one of the brief silences when Prowl's voice gave out, enjoying the horror it created in his victim and the mental images in his own processor. "Take his hands. I'll let you hear him scream while they're being destroyed." 

Molten remnants of the fingers were dripping down Prowl's palm, over his wrist, sinking into seams and trailing along his arm. That was a new kind of agony, pain where he'd never contemplated it possible. He really had no idea how many sensors his frame had, or how deep they went.

How long would it take to melt all ten? His processor helpfully supplied 2.3 breems at the current rate, and tacked on the unwelcome information that he had the physical reserves to survive and stay conscious the entire time. 

Finger after finger fell to the slow, steady melting until Prowl's arms were shaking with the influx of agony from all the destroyed digits. Metal--his own living metal, part of him--was cooling and hardening in his seams, locking them in place. White hot sensory data was screaming at him, warning him over and over of damage that he had no way to protect himself from. 

Vortex watched the wide, panicked optics that seemed to look right through him and smirked. He patted Prowl's cheek. "Don't worry," he said. "We've just barely begun. I have so much more for you." Prowl's moan washed over him and he lifted the torch back up to the first hand, starting in on the remaining stump. Prowl _screamed_ when the flame touched exposed wiring and burned right through. His frame jerked against the restraints and his engines turned over, faltering, trying to start, trying to _run_ , frantic to escape.

Vortex's engines revved hard at the sound, one that never failed to arouse him. His spike extended immediately, tip nudging up against Prowl, throbbing with need at the Praxian's next shriek. His free hand went to it while he worked, stroking to the rhythm of Prowl's intakes and cries whenever a new sensory cluster vanished before the unrelenting heat. He resisted the urge to take the mech's valve-he wanted his traitorous Intended to watch when he did that for the first time-and instead rubbed it up against Prowl's body, using his own hand and the spasming of his victim. 

Each palm took over twice as long as all ten fingers had and Vortex was well on his way to his second overload by the time he finished, his vents hot and full. Just a little more... 

He stood in front of Prowl and held the torch to the side of his neck where he'd ripped the plating before. Prowl's shriek and the wild dance of his optics pushed Vortex over the edge and he shot all over the Praxian's front with a deep, pleasured moan. He stepped back, enjoying the sight of his victim hanging in front of him, covered in transfluid and shaking in pain. Vortex grinned, a feral, deranged look. Soon he wouldn't even have the power to so much as tremble. 

Prowl could barely get his head to lift and his optics to focus. Hands gone. 

His processor ticked those off from the list of everywhere Vortex had touched with the torch. It left shoulders, chest, helm, hip, wings, and spike. His tanks lurched unsteadily. Movement caught his optic. Vortex's grin was _feral._

"Now let's see about those big, strong shoulders my foolish Intended seemed to love grabbing so much while he degraded himself beneath you..." 

* * *

Vortex watched as the wreck of a mecha slowly regained consciousness. The former seneschal didn't look like he should still be a living, functioning being, with his helm, chest, and shoulders melted into shapeless lumps, along with one of his hips. Vortex had taken the pleasure of holding the torch to the gaps where the lips had once been, destroying the wires and sensors there, and without his wings he looked much smaller. 

He'd started in on melting the wings, but Prowl had been knocked offline halfway through from the sheer volume of pain that it flooded his processors with. Vortex had simply torn them off after that and they lay discarded on the floor where Prowl was likely to see them as soon as he was able to process visual intake. 

The rotor watched the flickering optics with extreme dislike. If it weren't for the fact that he wanted this creature to see what was going to happen to the noble he felt so strongly for, Vortex would have torn them out just for looking.

Slowly, so very slowly, Prowl's optics focused, though there was definite room for debate how much of his consciousness was still able to function enough to think. Autonomic systems were all working and aware now. But _Prowl_ ... he was taking longer. A lot longer.

Even when a form of sentience came back into his optics and features and he whimpered in residual pain, it was limited.

"Hello there," Vortex rumbled when he saw it. "Are you with me yet?" 

The Praxian whined softly. 

Vortex patted his cheek. He wanted his victim aware for this next part. "Come on now," he said, snaking the cable from his wrist again. "You really don't want to miss this next part." He plugged into Prowl's neck and quickly found the command he wanted and forced it to execute. This was something he was practiced in and took no effort despite the firewalls that had been partially rebuilt.

Prowl's spike extended. Vortex locked it in place so it wouldn't be able to retract and unplugged. The Praxian looked down, his confusion showing on what was left of his face.

"Surely you didn't think I was going to let that go unpunished," Vortex hissed. "He was supposed to know no spike but mine, touch no spike but _mine!_ " The torch flared to life. "You're not even a proper mech, he sullied himself just by touching you."

"If I'm not even a proper mech, you must not even be sparked," Prowl's speech was slurred but still defiant. "At least I came from a real sparkline with a gift passed down. You, you're less than nothing. Oligar," he spat.

Vortex snarled and swiped his claws across Prowl's face. "How dare you speak to your master like that," he growled, claws closing in on the servant's throat, aching to tear out the offending vocalizer. "I want to hear you scream while I melt your spike, or I'd rip this from you right now!"

"Oligar. Former guttersmech," Prowl hissed despite the pressure on his throat cables. "You came into nothing, you will leave with nothing, and none will care at your passing," he spat a mix of oral lubricants and processed energon in Vortex's face.

Vortex's engines rumbled and fury radiated off his frame, washing over Prowl with an absolute promise of pain. With effort, he removed his hand from Prowl's throat and wiped the back across his face, denta bared in a hateful grimace. "See how well you talk _now_ ," he said, and held the torch to the tip of Prowl's spike, holding it so the two were almost touching, the white hot center of the flame instantly beginning to melt the soft metal.

The sound that came from Prowl went from scream to keen to ultrasonic to shorted out vocalizer in less than a quarter klik, but his frame arched, bowed and thrashed, doing _anything_ , even breaking its own joints, to get away.

It was the chains on his wrists that slipped first, having lost much of the bulk of the hands that they needed to hold onto. They'd been attached by nothing more than the cooled metal of Prowl's ruined hands, and as soon as it snapped, the Praxian fell. 

Vortex was on him in moments, sinking claws into the misshapen mass that was his chest plating and pinning him down, completely ignoring the arms that flailed and pushed at him, slipping over his plating without the fingers needing to grab on for leverage. His knee pinned one of Prowl's legs, which all but trapped the other one through the bar connecting his ankles. He kept the flame in place, unrelenting, pushing it down as the spike melted away beneath it, dripping down itself and pooling on Prowl's pelvis. Other bits landed on Vortex, the floor, Prowl's legs and anything else in range as he thrashed mindlessly against the pain.

Something popped deep in Prowl's cortex and his frame bowed with a silent scream, the molten metal oozing into his seams and onto the outside of his valve lining, burning and solidifying cables, silica and trillions of sensory wires.

Vortex's frame heaved with the sheer force of his vents and excitement from the sight. "Gone," he hissed, almost to himself. "Destroyed, nothing left, he will be _mine_ and you will be nothing to him." The flame hit pelvis and Vortex didn't stop, holding it there and pushing even deeper until a small hole had melted away before it, destroying the housing completely and warping the surrounding plating.

Prowl was beyond hearing, though he was still conscious. The pain consumed every electron in his neural net and his processors. He couldn't conceive of worse, even as he knew it would come, somehow.

Vortex had to fight to stop himself from continuing into just mauling the broken Praxian beneath him and yanked his claws from the shaking frame, flicking the torch off and standing. "If you'll excuse me," he said, reigning in his reeling senses and demanding arousal, nudging the unhearing, unseeing wreck on the floor with his pede, "I'm going to be late to my own bonding ceremony." 

* * *

Jazz stood with his arms held out, frozen in place while a servant moved around him, adding the finishing touches to his appearance. He was covered with traditional bonding glyphs, symbols with meanings like _devotion_ and _forever_. Symbols that meant absolutely nothing to him, not in this. His optics were dim and it was a struggle to keep his focus on what was happening, when all his spark wanted to do... 

He'd sobbed for what felt like most of a joor, curled up on the floor in the temporary quarters where the guard had tossed him, until the stress and upheaval had caused a forced recharge cycle to engage. 

When he'd onlined again, it was the next day and a servant was looking down at him, flanked by the same two guards from the night before. Just the sight of them had made Jazz feel dizzy but somehow, he had managed to compose himself and walk out of that room with his head high. 

Prowl was dead, or soon would be. There was no way Vortex would let him live. The thought still made his vents catch, but Jazz was desperately forcing his attention away from that. Prowl was gone, and while Jazz's spark still cried out for him, made him want to wail his grief to the skies, his processor knew he could not afford that luxury. Not now. 

Another shuddering intake, but this one was smoother than the last, which had been smoother than the one before that. Jazz was desperately trying to isolate the emotions away, because right now, he needed to convince Vortex that he'd wanted none of what had happened in the grotto. He didn't know how much the rotor had seen, but he was still alive and Vortex was still bonding him despite the contract breach, so Jazz was working with the assumption that he didn't know everything. 

Prowl was gone. He had wanted Jazz to survive, given him the key, and Jazz would use it. He would do whatever he had to, adapt however he had to, to ensure his future, to stay alive long enough to bear and protect his sparklings. 

The speed at which his processor was leaving Prowl behind and focusing in on Vortex was almost alarming to Jazz, but it was making what he had to do easier. 

Prowl was gone. Forget about Prowl. Prowl was gone. 

His next intake didn't shake.

The little femme working around him with flawless attention to the most minute of details spoke suddenly, almost startling Jazz out of his freeze. She hadn't made a sound before this.

"My Lord Jazz, Lord Vortex enjoys causing pain. It brings him great pleasure. If you have any masochism protocols installed, I beg of you to activate and integrate them well," her words came out in a rush, afraid that if she stopped she wouldn't find the strength to begin again. "For the sake of the House and yourself, he must be kept sated."

"Thank you," Jazz said softly, shifting his gaze to her without moving any other part of his frame. "What is your designation?"

He felt her startle, though no part of her so much as twitched as she draped a fine opalescent mesh fabric along his arm to give him the illusion of lowered wings flowing behind him.

"Beleza, Lord Jazz. I tend to the finish of those in the House."

"Thank you, Beleza," Jazz said, barely audible. "I will do my best." His optics unfocused again as his thoughts moved back inwards to the task of forgetting the only mech he had ever wanted. 

Prowl was gone. Forget about Prowl. Focus on Vortex. Prowl was gone...

* * *

The ceremony and its pageantry was largely lost on Jazz. He was there, he was focused enough on events to make all his cues with the flawless grace and poise of his upbringing, but nothing more than that. His full attention was on the large, dark rotor that would soon take his spark, sire his creations and command his existence. This was the mech he had to focus on. Vortex was his future. To please Vortex was to help the House, and ultimately help his creations.

He would learn to love this mech.

He would make Vortex love him, or whatever it was that this monster felt instead of love. 

_Monster._

Jazz felt his own internal shudder when the glyph brought the images Prowl had shown him to the front of his processor. Next to him, Vortex's weight shifted and his focus on Jazz sharpened. Even as he recited the next ceremonial line, Jazz isolated the glyph and deleted it. He couldn't think like that if he wanted to live. Somehow, he knew, he had to believe his own lie. 

Whatever it took, Jazz would figure out a way, because failure would destroy him, and that wasn't an option. For Prowl, he had to survive. 

They said the final lines of the ceremony together, and then Jazz was facing Vortex, tilting his head back to look up into the golden optics. The priest held his hand out, touched each of their chests over their spark chambers in turn, and pronounced them bonded. They had five orns to form the sparkbond, which the priest would test and verify to make the bonding official. 

"Bonded," Jazz said, with the intonation of the subservient. 

"Bonded," Vortex rumbled back, dominance and ownership. 

With those words, the ceremony was over. 

The witnesses trailed out of the chamber one by one, with the priest exiting last, leaving them alone. Jazz drew a calming intake. "Thank you," he said, keeping his optics properly averted.

"It will all be over soon," Vortex cooed, reaching out to caress Jazz's cheek. His voice was somehow not reassuring for all that he spoke the truth and Jazz froze at the touch and felt his field shrink in. "Seals are only broken once. Come." His hand slipped away as he turned to lead Jazz from the great hall. 

Jazz was still for just a moment as he sought out a memory of dancing for Prowl and the calm and relaxation that came with it. He grabbed onto that feeling, his field flowed outward again, and he moved to be in step with Vortex without the rotor having noticed the pause at all. "Vortex," he said. "Thank you, for still having me."

"He admitted to having coerced you and I punished him," Vortex's rumble was smooth, his field spoke clearly of his great enjoyment of the punishment. "Your seals will all be mine. It is enough."

"All of me will be yours," Jazz said, carefully teeking for changes his words might cause, looking for the most positive reactions. "He had no right to manipulate me as he did, I can only thank Primus you sent your guards for me."

He felt the flare of possessiveness mingled with pleasure. Yes, Vortex was pleased by his words. They fell into silence for the remainder of the walk to Vortex's quarters and Jazz waited submissively for the door to be opened.

"This is where you will live now," Vortex informed him evenly, his field reeking of ownership, but that wasn't what captured Jazz's focus. It was the smell. As soon as the door opened he was blasted with stale, spoiled fluids of many ages. Vortex walked in, intentionally not reacting to the way Jazz's step faltered and the smaller mech blanched, looking around for the source, before catching himself and looking back at Vortex. He was trying to hide it, but he wasn't in nearly enough control of his emotions to keep the spikes of anxiety from showing in his field.

"What are you afraid of, my bonded?" Vortex's voice was sweet, though his field was licking with excitement at what was to come. "I will feel what you do very soon, directly through our sparks."

"Nothing," Jazz said quickly, then, "I'm just--a little nervous, about my seals, is all." He offered Vortex a faint, forced smile as memories of video clips played in his processor. "I don't want it to hurt, but I'm just being silly, I suppose..." He stepped close to the rotor and looked up at him, running slender white fingers over the dark chassis. "I know you wouldn't hurt me, my own bonded."

"No more than I must," Vortex cooed a promise he meant and shifted to get a hand on Jazz's back to guide the smaller mech into the berthroom and the surprise waiting there. "Never more than I must."

The first thing that Jazz saw as he stepped through the doorway was the giant berth, centered on the far wall. His gaze flickered over it, then to one side, and then the other--

He froze, staring. 

On the other side of the berth was a small alcove lined with empty shelves, whose original function appeared to have been a sitting area, with any comforts removed and replaced with a single rectangular stand. On that stand was a disfigured creature, kneeling and immobile. It was a mech, Jazz realized after a moment, but something was wrong with its mouth and the rest of its frame looked so badly damaged there was no way it should still be living. 

The optics lit pale blue, almost white with pain, and Jazz's tanks lurched when he realized it was alive and watching him. He tried to take a step back when he saw it, only to run into the immovable mass that was Vortex. The large hand came to rest on the small of his back and pushed him forward.

"Come now, there is no time like the present to become accustomed to the sight of those who displease me," Vortex purred. Arousal roared through him from the fresh memories. "In time you will understand the pleasure of power."

"Those who..." Jazz echoed, faintly, as the shock at the sight slowly began to settle enough for him look closer. He took one step, then another, locked onto the optics that were so familiar... 

Something clicked in his processor and his gaze swept down, then up, taking in the frame build, the colors, rapidly adding in the missing pieces and mentally correcting the shape of the helm to what it might have once been, leaving him with no doubt of who this was, and the horror made his knees buckle. "Prowl," he choked, the back of one hand pressed to his mouth. 

Vortex's field was pressing up from behind him but Jazz couldn't move, couldn't think, was fighting just to stay online as every passing moment showed him more and more of the damage his once-lover had taken. 

"Nothing touches what is mine," Vortex growled. "He wanted you badly enough to try and protect you, take the blame himself. He didn't know I saw every moment of your tryst." A hard hand came down on Jazz's shoulder. "I would have torn his optics out for looking at you, but it is going to be far worse for him to witness my claiming of you."

Warnings had been screaming in Jazz's processor, trying to get him to focus on the danger behind him, but it wasn't until the hand came down on his shoulder that he was jolted from his horrified daze and he jerked away, spinning, taking faltering steps back. "No," he said, shaking his head desperately, holding his hands up as if they would offer some kind of protection. "No--no, _please_ , I'll do anything, just let him go and I won't even fight you, it could be easy, whatever you want--" His vocalizer shorted when Vortex took the first step forward. 

"I don't want it easy," the rotor purred, excitement causing his golden optics to glow brightly. "I like it when they scream, and fight, and eventually give up and expire. I removed all of him that you touched," Vortex took another step forward, careful to be ready to grab his new plaything, his most important plaything, in case the little creature decided to dive out the window. "Now I need to purify all the parts of you that he touched."

Jazz's mouth worked silently as Vortex's words sank in and he looked back at Prowl, cataloging the damage more thoroughly, syncing it up with the memory of their forbidden encounter, seeing for the first time that every mutilated span was something he'd kissed, caressed, held, stroked. "No," he forced out, voice cracking with static. This was _his_ fault, if he hadn't kissed Prowl, if he hadn't pushed him in the grotto, if he'd only touched _less!_ "I'm sorry, Prowl, I'm so sorry, oh Primus--" His voice broke again as his attention shifted. 

His processor was making a rapid list of everywhere Prowl had touched him, his neck, his chest, his hips, his wheel well, his pelvis, his helm, his lips--Jazz quivered as he looked back to Vortex, optics darting between the rotor and the door. He knew he wasn't fast enough, but maybe if Vortex wasn't prepared for it... 

He bolted forward, trying in his growing panic to get past. He barely registered flying as he was grabbed and tossed onto the berth, causing another explosion of spoiled fluid smells to envelope him. That faded into the background as Vortex was suddenly on top of him, biting at his lips and one hand pawed at his lower interface panel.

Jazz pushed against Vortex, fingers searching desperately for any kind of hold that might get the larger mech off him, kicking and struggling against the hand while trying to turn his head away. It only caused his lips to tear between Vortex's denta and Jazz cried out in panic, shoving harder. "No, _no!_ " he shouted, pressing his legs together and twisting at the hips, trying to escape the heavy, groping fingers.

"So you do have some spirit in you," Vortex grinned down and curled his fingers into claws to rip the valve cover off. Cables and wires pulled out with it and snapped in a series of small sparks. He crumpled the thin sheet in his hand and tossed it with casual indifference but perfect aim to bounce off Prowl's nose. "I'm going to enjoy teaching you your place."

Jazz's hips bucked up as the unfamiliar pain burned through him and in his panic, thrashed up, pulling his leg back to kick against Vortex as hard as he could. His fingers clawed against the looming chassis, not even leaving a mark in the heavy armor. "No!" he sobbed again, squirming, pushing with his legs, trying to get out from under the rotor. Arousal assaulted him from above, excitement at his pain and screaming.

A knee forced his legs further apart and something burningly hot and hard slid forward against his abdominal plating. Jazz's hand shot down, instinctively, trying to push it away and his vents stalled when he felt the sharp edges, sharp enough to slice open the thin plating of his palm. He snatched his hand back and stared up at Vortex, stilling for the first time as nothing short of sheer terror washed through him. His thighs clenched around the leg, unable to close, unable to protect his valve and the seal over it. 

The next slide of Vortex's spike over his smaller frame spurred Jazz back into action and he shouted, twisting desperately and grabbing Vortex's shoulders, pulling, trying to work his way free.

"Such a delightful little thing," Vortex laughed, ignoring the smaller, lighter mech's pitiful efforts. "At least that thing over there accepted the results of his actions."

He sat up and grabbed both of Jazz's legs and pulled the noble down until his aft reached the edge of the berth. Jazz kicked and fought the hold, digging his fingers into the berth, not nearly strong enough to stop the drag. Vortex largely ignored the struggles and secured one ankle to a post there, then the other to the far side, spreading him wide and tight, straining hip joints, but leaving his upper frame able to thrash about.

Jazz's vents heaved and strained as he winced from the pull. He pushed himself up on one arm, holding the other out, realizing he couldn't reach far enough to push Vortex off, knowing he wasn't strong enough even if he could. Another sob tore through him when it brought him into line of sight with Vortex's spike and his hand pressed over his mouth while sickening dread lurched through him. 

Prowl's spike had been rounded, with gentle rolling ridges around the tip and base, and small nodes along the top that looked designed to help stimulate a lover. Jazz had wanted to take that spike into him, know what it felt like to be filled and stroked with its gentle, rubbing texture. 

Vortex's was ring after ring of razor-sharp edges that lifted away from the top, with a line of spikes along the bottom. Smaller spikes sat under the sculpted tip, and all of them angled backwards, so that when he pulled out--

Jazz choked and struggled uselessly against the bonds forcing his legs apart. He felt exposed and vulnerable and the way Vortex was looking at him, with such glee obvious on his face and in his sickeningly aroused field, was making Jazz shake. But instead of slamming that horrible looking weapon of a spike into him, tearing him open in more ways than normal, a gentle hand stroked his spike cover the way Jazz had always imagined that Prowl would.

Vortex's field smoothed out, his glee became a hunger as he stroked the sensitive metal with a delicate, teasing touch.

"Open up, my bonded," Vortex trilled, encouraging with modifiers of promised pleasure. "I want your spike."

The sudden gentleness was, in many ways, more alarming to Jazz than the outright aggression had been. His hands clenched around the berth as he stared, legs twitching in continued efforts to break free, before he looked at Prowl, optics wide and panicked and begging. 

A startled, quickly cut-off groan came from his vocalizer as his panel retracted on its own and the touches only continued. He shook his head, offlining his optics. "No," he whispered. "No no no, please, no."

"What do you think I'll do?" Vortex trilled again, his gentle touch continuing to build up the pleasure in Jazz's systems, centered on his spike housing.

Jazz moaned in a confusing mix of terror and enjoyment and didn't answer, trying to fight against the sensations, and failing as Vortex didn't let up. "Don't--want you," he finally managed. "Don't want you--touching--me--" His vents shortened and his voice stammered out. It wasn't stopping, and there was a pressure building under the seal, nudging up, that Jazz didn't think he would be able to keep at bay. 

A gentle, swirled charge around the housing, coming from a careful finger, and Jazz cried out nanokliks before his spike extended and the cry sharpened as his hips bucked up and his head fell back, leaving him flat on the berth, staring at the ceiling, gripping the soft material and quivering from the new sensations. 

"Good," Vortex rumbled. "You'll fight more." With that he licked and kissed his way up Jazz's freshly exposed spike, but his optics were on the remains of the mech who had tried to take it from him. "He still wants this, you know. He wants to be the one to stroke it," light fingers danced along the smooth, finally crafted spike inlaid with precious metals and glyphs of pleasure. "He wants to kiss it, taste it as you cry out."

Jazz sobbed as his frame pushed into the pleasure that Vortex was giving him. He couldn't bring himself to look at Prowl, couldn't stand the thought that the former seneschal was seeing him reduced to this, falling so easily to Vortex's touches. The words swirled around him, consumed him with their truth and the aching loss that it would never happen. 

"Should I give it to him, my bonded?" Vortex asked as he grew more excited, his fingers a electric dance of along Jazz's spike, his lips a line of molten need. "Do you want your spike to go into his mouth, down his intake?"

Prowl made a noise, but there was no way to tell what it was meant to be with his ruined vocalizer and melted features.

Some part of Jazz hesitated, flared in alarm, but most of him was too drawn in by the words, too ready to believe that Vortex was capable of mercy, and without even thinking about it, whispered, " _Yes,_ " because it was the truth, it was everything he'd always wanted.

"Then you'll watch as exactly that happens," the rotor whispered seductively. With a single smooth motion he slid his mouth around Jazz's spike, then all the way down. He pealed his lips back and teased his denta along the housing.

Confusion flickered through Jazz. Surely Prowl would need a medic, and repairs, first, and Vortex wasn't stopping and oh _Primus_ he'd never realized anything could feel like this. He moaned, losing himself to the feeling of a warm glossa and oral cavity and that exquisite light scrape. His hands clutched the berth covers, fisting.

Then _pain_.

Vortex stood, energon pouring down his chin.

Jazz's optics snapped wide as his processor scrambled to understand what had happened, why the sensory input had cut so abruptly, why it hurt so much, what the flashing warnings were trying to tell him. He heard his own shriek but it seemed distant as he stared at the energon on Vortex's face, trying desperate to make sense... 

When he saw what Vortex had in his hand, he screamed.

"You did want this in his mouth, down his intake," Vortex's grin was vicious as he turned to Prowl and grabbed the mech's chin. "Open up," he hissed at the Praxian, pressing the tip of the spike against the torn and melted remains of Prowl's mouth.

"No!" Jazz cried, struggling again. "No, leave him alone!" He sobbed, knowing he couldn't break free. "It was me, it was all my fault, _please!_ "

Instead of protesting, Prowl parted his denta, the crack of solidified melted metal marking where he had to force his jaw open further than it wanted to anymore. Vortex pressed the tip in, just enough to make the decorative tip disappear. "Make love to it, Nothing. Just like it was still attached. Then you'll eat it, bite by bite. It's all the energon you'll get for a while."

Prowl shuddered faintly, not much of him capable of more, and struggled to pleasure the severed spike with his lips gone, his glossa half melted away and torn out and the tubing in his neck damaged. But he tried. Ice blue optics turned off as he made a show of himself, slowly rocking back and forth as Vortex held the spike steady.

Jazz moaned, low and horrified, hand over his mouth, unable to look away, unable to speak as he stared. A traitorous part of his processors was watching as a fantasy, as if Prowl was doing all that to him, and no one was injured or bound.

Prowl's movements were surprisingly smooth, his efforts genuine as he worked to put on a show, though who it was for and what he was thinking was much harder to work out. Still every move enchanted Jazz's imagination, tormenting him with what they could have had if they'd only been more careful.

No, Jazz corrected himself. What they could have had if he hadn't resisted for so long. If he'd said yes to Prowl like he'd wanted to, instead of clinging to his duties and the family that had given him to this creature. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be better than this, they were supposed to be together it the end, that's how it should have happened. Jazz fought back against another sob as Prowl caressed the severed spike with his mutilated mouth.

The reality of that, of the torn, melted plating around the denta, the hand wrapped around the spike, was pressing in on him. The throbbing pain in his pelvis was getting harder to ignore. His spark ached that he couldn't have this, would never have the life he'd dreamed of. Prowl had given everything to try to save him. Jazz turned his head, shuddering. The least he could do was not bear witness.

He was too horrified by the images in his processor to notice how long it took before the sickening slurp and slide of soft metal against melted metal ended and the first crunch of denta crushing and tearing it began.

He couldn't stop himself from looking then, and found himself sickeningly mesmerized by the sight. The metal crumpled easily and Prowl's optics were dim as he swallowed the first bite and tore off the next. The precious metals, the ornate etchings, all of it destroyed, disappearing as Vortex pushed it forward into Prowl's mouth until everything was gone. The only stray thought that wasn't horrified was the tiny whisper that now part of him would always be with Prowl. Those metals would be absorbed into Prowl's frame, used to repair him. It wasn't much, but it was all Jazz had and he clung to it with a desperation he'd never believed possible.

"He does put on a lovely show, doesn't he, pet?" Vortex grinned as he turned to face Jazz once more. Lustful optics traveled down the raised and bound legs to the center of the widespread V and the mangled interface arrays. One had the spike bitten off at the housing. The other had the cover torn off, but a seal still protected the delicate construction of the valve meant for gentle pleasure. "But then, so do you."

A snarl came from Jazz's throat, a noise that surprised even him as soon as he heard it. He kicked at the bindings, optics focused on every move Vortex made while he kept himself propped up on his elbows, tense.

Vortex only grinned more broadly. He stepped between Jazz's spread legs, the pedes almost to his shoulders, and traced a claw around the valve seal, his optics locked on Jazz's.

"Freak," Jazz hissed, squirming at the sensation. His spark was pulsing and flaring in his chest, he could feel its wild, terrified throbbing, pressing out and filling him. There was no way for him to hide it in his field, or keep the tremors from his frame. Despite it, he stubbornly held Vortex's gaze.

"Your master," Vortex corrected, applying enough pressure to the claw to dig into the soft, sensitive metal just outside the seal. "I own you, and I enjoy what I own."

Jazz winced. "Prowl owns me," he said, already cringing in anticipation of a response. 

"Say that again and I'll make it _your_ hand that extinguishes his spark!" Vortex snarled, driving his claws in deep around the seal and dragging them. "But only _after_ he begs for it."

Jazz cried out and shook from the pain, his arms giving out from under him. He fell back and turned his head away. He had no doubt Vortex would keep his word. He shook his head, silent.

Those powerful clawed hands, so different from Prowl's, grabbed his hips and dug in. Even as Jazz gasped and reeled from that flash of dual agony, Vortex thrust his hips forward and pushed until with a snap, his spike cracked into the soft platelets around Jazz's valve, still covered by the tattered remains of his seal. Jazz screamed, his spine arching, and reached down blindly towards the source of the sudden splitting agony, pushing at Vortex's pelvis. "Stop!" he gasped. "Oh--please, _please_ , stop, don't!"

"Oh yeah," pure lust roiled in Vortex voice, his field was spiking with intense bursts of arousal that had nothing to do with the tight, dry passage he was buried in that was desperately trying to push him out. "Yeah, just like that," he moaned before dragging his hips back, the hooks and spikes of his spike tearing into the soft lining, making it slick with energon. "Oh yeah, so good, my pet. Love your voice like this."

Jazz lost all coherency as Vortex shredded his valve with a single pull, shrieking, begging wordlessly, thrashing in the rotor's grip. His fingers spasmed from the pain, scrambling over the larger frame, trying mindlessly to make it stop, to get it _out_. Energon pooled in his valve and dripped out, covering the spike that was so eagerly destroying the delicate lining. " _Prowl!_ " Jazz sobbed, the only word he could form.

Vortex snarled and slashed Jazz's face with a hard blow as he slammed back in, this time hard enough to crack and buckle the metal around Jazz's valve with a sickening crunch. "I paid for you! You are mine! Forever!"

"No," Jazz somehow managed to moan, before his voice was consumed with another scream as Vortex pulled out at a different angle. He choked, optics flickering, and turned his head to look at Prowl, barely able to make him out in his glitching visual feed. The next thrust in and his vocalizer plunged into static as his voice finally strained it too far. A hard hit into the back of his valve, tearing it open, and the pain consumed him completely. Vortex thrust again and his vision flickered out, leaving him with nothing but the agony of the spike and the sound of Vortex's low grunts.

* * *

The full weight of the rotor frame came down on him suddenly, almost as soon as Vortex's overload faded. Jazz froze, waiting for the next blow, but nothing came, and gradually, he realized that Vortex had slipped right into recharge. 

A short, panicked gasp escaped him as he squirmed, desperate to be out from under the monster, crying out softly as the softening spike pulled out of his battered valve, a rush of energon and transfluid flowing out after it. Jazz pushed at the arm that was holding his leg, slipping without fingers, then kicked out of the loose grip, and rolled to the side, almost sobbing in relief to not have the dark chassis above him anymore. 

His frame, his beautiful, delicate frame was destroyed, melted down the same way Prowl's had been, and there was no part of him that was not throbbing. He looked down at his arms and the stumps where his hands had been, swallowed down against the feeling of his tanks trying to purge, and lifted his head, looking at Prowl. 

Pale, ice blue optics looked back. 

"I'm sorry," Jazz whispered, shaking, curling in on himself. 

::You survived,:: Prowl's voice was full of static from pain and minor damage. ::That is all that matters. Download and install. Now.:: A list of links to protocols followed, some of them unusually large.

::Prowl,:: Jazz gasped, head shooting up to look at him. He tried to push himself up, but his battered frame couldn't hold its own weight anymore. He automatically accepted the installations, but they were secondary to hearing Prowl's voice. ::I...I'm so sorry.::

::You survived. As long as your spark is in your frame, there is hope,:: Prowl's tone was firm, his words as much for himself as for the mech that had long been his charge and was now his lover. ::We live. We adapt. We win by surviving. I expect my comms will be disabled when I am repaired. It may be a while before we can speak again.::

Jazz nodded and slowly lowered his head back down, reaching one handless arm out towards him, unable to do more than that anymore. He hurt, everything _hurt_. ::I don't know what to do,:: he whispered.

::Shu, my lovely Jazz. My Jazz,:: Prowl's voice trembled at the dangerous glyphs. ::The protocols will make it easier to be with him. You are smart, Jazz. Independent and creative. Adapt and survive. Whatever that means. He is stronger than we are, but he is still only a mech. Eventually, his cruelty will bring him down.::

::Yours,:: Jazz murmured. ::Told him so.:: His awareness faded out briefly, then snapped back with a sharp flare of panic before he realized where he was, remembered that Vortex was safely in recharge.

::Recharge, my love,:: Prowl whispered. ::You will feel better when you boot. I promise. Never forget. Your greatest strength, your weapon, is your creative genius. You think like no other.::

::I'll adapt,:: Jazz promised, optics dimming down as he allowed the recharge cycle to begin. ::I'll figure...out...:: His processor slipped under.


	4. Processor and Spark

When Jazz began to boot, one of the first things his processor registered as his motion sensors came online was the confusing reading that his body was rocking. His gyros kicked on and told him he was on his back, which was not where he'd fallen into recharge, which was disorientating enough on its own. 

The sensory net was next and pain flared up, damage warnings that were growing more urgent as his injuries were left unrepaired. He heard his groan as his hearing came online a moment after his vocalizer, and last were his optics, showing a visual feed entirely taken up by dark plating. 

Something _grated_ over his abdomen and Jazz cried out, barely noticing the final notices of the startup sequences that were telling him about new protocols that had been installed, integrated, and were now initiating. 

He stilled as warmth swept over him, coming from everywhere that had previously been aching. It still ached, but... 

The next slow rock and Jazz made a strangled noise at the confusing mix of rough pain and pricking heat. He stared up at Vortex, slowly realizing that it was the rotor's spike, hard and extended, moving up and down over his pelvis and abdomen. He turned his head and tried to look at Prowl, but Vortex's arm next to his head was blocking the Praxian.

"Finally. I wanted to make sure you'd _feel_ this," Vortex's voice was rough with pleasure and thick with anticipation, his field roiling with the same. A single claw came up and almost delicately tore the locked interface port cover off of his upper chest. It was small, but loaded with sensors.

Jazz's vents hitched. "Stay the Pit out of my processors," he growled, then groaned again as claws pricked around the port and the seal covering it.

"I own you. All of you." Vortex grinned and slammed the connection in place, shredding the thin seal that protected the port. Powerful processors with a penchant for pain, humiliation, domination and destruction crashed into Jazz's weak outer firewalls, shredding them at a glance to gain access to Jazz's surface thoughts and pleasure coding.

The sound it tore from Jazz's vocalizer had nothing to do with either the pain of the seal tearing or the flare of _good_ that registered with it. It was sheer revulsion at feeling Vortex filling his awareness, touching depths in his processors that only Prowl had ever been welcomed to. 

The spike against his plating, scraping over his melted chassis, made him shudder, still trying to comprehend the mixed signals it was creating, distracting him for a moment before he snapped back, pushing futilely against Vortex's presence. He wasn't prepared to fight, though. Not physically or mentally. It wasn't part of his intended function. He was meant to look good, behave well, carry the next generation gracefully and submit to his mate in all things.

Now he was fighting not only a stronger mech, but his own coding that wanted him to submit and welcome the monster in.

And Vortex wasn't in the mood to wait while Jazz struggled uselessly against him. He punched through firewalls as he found them, pushing pain, pleasure and his lust across the connection as he swept through Jazz's mind, into his memories, searching for what made the young mech tick.

Jazz gasped, shuddered, unable to stop him, unable to focus on fighting--couldn't remember why he wanted to fight--as the charge rose in his system, blurring everything together. He pushed back against the next slide of the spike, moaning, barely recognizing his own voice and the intonations of pleasure lining it. 

_Adapt,_ he heard in Prowl's voice from memory, and then realized too late that Vortex had heard it as well. 

~I'll have to fix that,~ Vortex rumbled as he sought out as many memories tagged 'Prowl' as he could and shredded them. It would never completely erase the mech from Jazz's memory, but he could remove a lot.

Jazz panicked and immediately stopped fighting. He _couldn't_ lose those, he had to change tactics. ~No, _no!_ ~ he screamed as he watched the memories start to corrupt. ~Please let me remember, if I can't remember I'll--I'll never know why you're better than him--I'll never be able to hate him!~

The destruction paused as Vortex mulled over that concept. ~All right, you can remember him for as long as it's useful,~ the rotor decided before sweeping through the rest of Jazz's memories, leaving no file unopened. Eventually he settled back into Jazz's primary awareness and considered him. ~You've installed some potent masochism protocols since I took your seals.~

~To help,~ Jazz said, voice shaking. He'd come too close to losing something irreplaceable, and now he needed to move carefully. ~I can't fight my coding forever--you're not what I wanted, or dreamed of, but eventually, I'll want you.~

The touch on his cheek was a genuine caress. ~So you're rewriting your responses to make me more desirable.~ Vortex hummed, then chuckled and kiss him. A real kiss. It wasn't the kind of tender passion that Prowl gave him, but it was something closer to what he could wrap his processors around wanting to do again. Vortex's glossa stroked his lip plates, or what was left of them, demanding entrance without forcing it.

Jazz tried to suppress his shudder as he allowed it. His frame was rigid with tension, but he did his best to focus on the kiss, to respond to Vortex's touch. He would learn to enjoy this monster. ~Yes, bonded,~ he whispered. ~I can't escape you, so for my own sake, I must learn.~

~You're smarter than I gave you credit for,~ Vortex hummed again, exploring Jazz's mouth with a dominating but not painful touch. The only pain, such as it was, came from older injuries and that was becoming a pleasure warmth and tingle of pleasure as the masochism protocols took more and more precedence. ~Overload me, by hardline.~

Jazz nodded his agreement and opened a set of protocols he'd never looked at before, part of his interfacing programs and easily accessible once he searched, activated them, and felt energy begin to flow over the line. Physical sensation soon joined it, a copy of what he was feeling sent to Vortex, and Jazz focused on the swirl of Vortex's glossa around his and the spreading warmth. ~Like this, bonded?~ he asked softly.

~Yes,~ the rumble was of pleasure. A pulse came from Vortex, sharp and the frequency a touch too high, but it still flooded Jazz with energy.

He whined sharply into the kiss, lifted his mutilated arms up to caress Vortex's face, and sank into the feeling of the connection and exchange. 

There was nothing else. Forget everything. Focus on Vortex. Focus on _this_. 

Jazz pulsed back, isolating everything but the energy echoing back and forth between them away from his awareness. He didn't know how he was able to tuck everything else away, but it was simple, natural, just an easy trick of the mind. The energy moved out in rolling waves after that, waves that fed back to him and made him gasp at Vortex's arousal. His broken, mutilated frame responded easily, drank in the energy and twisted its own pain to pleasure. 

He didn't care how. He couldn't, didn't dare care how. But it was amazing to feel the energy, raw pleasure and arousal, roll through him in ways that crashed into his spark with increasing intensity.

Beyond that, there was the unquestionable certainty that Vortex was enjoying it and approved of Jazz's efforts in this. The frame above him began to undulate once more, scraping that pain-inducing spike across his abdominal plates. It didn't take much to understand that even in this Vortex was a very physical mech. He liked his spike and overload, in Vortex's processors, always centered on that terrifying spike.

Jazz's resolve almost buckled when he realized that, and knew what he had to ask for. He focused on the sensations that had been nothing less than agony and the warmth they now offered him and steeled himself. He needed to want this. 

A shudder overhead, a low moan, a flood of pleasure-enhanced energy rolled back into him. 

It wasn't hard. _Jazz_ slipped away, replaced by a creature that wanted what Vortex could give him, wanted to form himself to the rotor's desires. Natural coding mixed with his will to survive and thrive and _win_ , and the slender, white noble, prostrate and moaning on his back, spread his legs and lifted his hips up, giving a soft whine of need.

He felt the intensity of the shock from Vortex, how the rotor actually faltered slightly, then the unbelievable rush of arousal. It was like nothing Jazz knew, and he could feel that it was a shock to Vortex as well. No one had reacted like this for him. Not even the pleasurebots he paid for.

With a deep moan Vortex shifted and drove his spike into the shredded valve and shuddered at the way the calipers, strong enough to resist serious damage, cycled around his spike. He rewarded Jazz by feeding just how _good_ it felt along the hardline with each pulse of energy.

Nothing could change how much it hurt for the blades to pull back over the tattered lining--what little of it even remained--but the protocols helped, dulling it down, shifting the majority of the sensation into a sharp, spreading heat. Jazz pushed back, soaking in Vortex's lust and sending back his own. ~Harder, use me, use my frame,~ he whispered, while his engines revved and his body shook.

Vortex groaned and thrust harder, his frame shaking with the intensity of the lust those words, and how fully they were meant, spread through him in thick waves. One more thrust and he bellowed, flooding Jazz's ruined valve with hot, thick, crackling transfluid that oozed deeper into Jazz's lower internals than it should have. Each further thrust, short and sharp, sent another burst of transfluid and an impossibly high charge through the hardline.

Lost in the pleasure of it, Vortex wasn't even aware of the small shift in his perspective of this creature he gripped and drove into, filling completely. Unprepared for the overload energy, Jazz missed it as well, too consumed by the currents that rippled over and through him. He cried out and writhed in the rotor's claws, lost with him.

When it finally faded, Jazz slumped back, stunned and unmoving.

"Your next valve won't be so easily damaged," Vortex purred, his field smoothing in the afterglow of the overload and his surprise that this creature under him had shared it. He unplugged smoothly and stood with a glance at Prowl. "Yes, it's time I enjoyed him a little more before you're both repaired," he murmured to himself as he got up. Strong hands easily positioned Jazz to have a good view of the melted and mangled Praxian, those ice blue optics on and dim and watching everything.

It took effort for Jazz not to cry out as he came fully back into the blissful solitude of his processors, and the temptation to beg Vortex to stop was strong. 

He would learn how to enjoy Vortex, he would believe his own lies that he could love this monster, but he would _not_ enjoy Prowl's pain. He wasn't like Vortex. 

But he couldn't show that. He watched wordlessly while his damaged vents struggled to cool his internal mechanics down. 

Vortex was approaching Prowl with a leer on his face, optics drinking in the damage he'd done, spike already throbbing again as he imagined driving it into the ruined frame, tearing the wretched creature's valve. With any luck, this one wouldn't have any kind of masochism protocols installed. Vortex wanted this one, this worthless thief who was less than an Empty, to _hurt_.

Ice blue optics watched him approach, recognized who he was, but gave no indication of fear. Prowl had heard and understood the words. It wasn't only Jazz that would be repaired. That was expected. Vortex needed Jazz in reasonable shape for some time to come. Yet Vortex was going to have Prowl repaired, and that could only mean that Vortex intended to destroy his frame again. Likely many times until he lost the will to continue and his spark guttered from the strain.

Mouth or valve, it hardly mattered which Vortex took. Neither had been touched yet, which meant Prowl had little doubt that both would be used before the medic was called.

He briefly considered installing the same protocols that he'd sent to Jazz, but refrained. He would rather take the pain than change his definition of what felt good.

"I hope you enjoyed that," Vortex rumbled, reaching behind the kneeling Praxian and tearing through the binds that had linked his arms to his ankles, keeping him in place. He hauled him off the stand and dropped him to the floor, where he crumpled. "I hope you enjoyed watching your precious noble overloading on my spike." He knelt down, grabbed Prowl's neck and yanked him up, grinning into his face. "Wasn't even a thought of you in there, he _loved_ it."

"I know," Prowl voice, such as it was, crackled thickly with static. The vocalizer would never work quite right again, but he could get a few words out. Otherwise he remained limp, though admittedly he didn't have much choice with the state of his frame. He knew Jazz had overloaded and thought only of Vortex because that was what Jazz's conforming programming was designed to do once the pain was manageable. As much as it hurt, Prowl had given those protocols, knowing full well that was what they would do, to save his love.

Vortex's claws were pawing their way over Prowl's frame, leaving scratches in the smoothed surfaces where the torch had melted everything together. He reached the Praxian's pelvis and the disfigured panel that had once been a spike housing, swirled his claw into the indent left there. "I think this arrangement will suit me nicely," he hummed to himself, ignoring the way the Praxian spasmed and released sharp bursts of static with every push. "A pretty bonded who will love it when I use him and you to destroy whenever I feel like it." 

A heavy x-vent, warm and reeking, blew over Prowl's face before he was pushed down. The grin came back, the hand went to his mouth, working claws in between the denta and prying them open. Vortex's spike pushed up, barbed tip nudging at the opening.

Prowl tried not to resist, but it was impossible not to. The sharp protrusions _hurt_ , and so did having his jaw forced open after being all but melted shut. A low sob escaped him as the tip forced its way in, each backward curved ridge a reminder of what was going to happen when it pulled out.

"There we go," Vortex trilled, the sound filling him with excitement. His spike was larger than Jazz's had been, and he had to continue working the Praxian's mouth open until there was a sharp _crack_ as the jaw broke and the melded joint snapped open, hanging loosely. He shoved in, hit the intake, and kept pressing until he was buried in the constricting tubing.

A glance over his shoulder showed Jazz staring, looking transfixed. Vortex grinned. "A little show for you, my bonded, as a gift."

Jazz tried not to shudder. He tried to meet Prowl's wide, pain-whitened optics, tried to offer _anything_ , but he couldn't even tell if the Praxian was aware of him as Prowl choked on the large, painful spike.

Vortex's attention shifted back down. He gripped Prowl's head in both hands, and _pulled_ , instantly feeling the slick heat of processed energon coming from the intake and mouth as he tore through them.

Prowl's vocalizer gave a garbled scream that racked his entire frame in a spasm before shorting out again. He didn't have the joints or structure left to do much more than obey the hands around his helm so he gave up any effort to. It was not the first time he'd been used, or used to the point of pain, and he retreated to those places in his meta that his frame didn't touch. This was so much worse than ever before, but with the knowledge that it wasn't the end Prowl allowed himself to retreat from it, allowed himself the luxury of not feeling and not recording what was going on. He had enough already, should anyone search his processors for his cause of deactivation. He did not need to experience the rest of the morning's torment. His frame would respond. Unless he was hardlined in, Vortex would have no way of knowing that _Prowl_ wasn't there.

He was dimly aware of the shaking of his frame from the charged transfluid gushing down his intake and getting onto wires that were either stripped of their insulation or simply broken. It sent strange commands through his systems, not unlike an overload. He was dropped again, then tossed onto the berth. Strangely curious Prowl dared a check on his frame and senses and immediately regretted it.

Jazz was binding his ankles to the corners of the berth, forcing his mangled frame mostly flat. He tipped his helm, focusing his optics with difficulty as Jazz found a spot near his abdominals to sit and watch. His love's optics were locked on Vortex's spike.

Prowl realized the shift in them just in time to retreat back to his space place with almost no input from his frame, though he still heard and felt the pain and silent screams from his body as reflexes frantically tried to stop the one undamaged part of him from being shredded. In his safe place, Prowl's meta curled up tightly and sobbed. He would _think_ later. Plot and manipulate later. Right now, all he could do was hurt.

* * *

Three guards escorted Jazz back from his lengthy repairs. He'd been under for over a joor while the private estate medic worked on his frame, fixing what he could and replacing the damaged parts that couldn't be saved. Nearly everything had been replaced, Jazz had realized while reading the notes after booting up. He even had a new valve with another seal for Vortex to break.

The piece that hadn't been replaced was his spike. His original damaged remnants had been removed, but nothing put back in. An empty panel took the place behind that cover where the housing should have been, because, as Vortex had purred into his audial, he wouldn't be needing one anymore. Not here. 

He looked almost the same as he had, white plating and thin armor both replaced with almost identical pieces, but his sculpted helm was gone. The custom double-chevron, completely melted down, hadn't been replaceable. Jazz had stared at his reflection and the much simpler helm for a long time, reconciling himself with the new appearance. 

It would change again. The thin plating paired with Vortex's tastes in the berth guaranteed it as an eventuality. There were much more important things to worry about than whether his appearance changed or not. 

They reached the door to Vortex's quarters, which opened automatically to him. They were programmed only to open from this side. Once in, he wouldn't he able to leave. 

_My quarters,_ Jazz thought with a hidden shudder as the smell hit him. He braced himself. "Where is Lord Vortex?" he asked. 

"Out," a guard said, then put a hand on his back and shoved. Jazz didn't have enough time to react before the lock clicked behind him. He took a sharp intake and a reflexive step back and pressed his back to the door, staring at the entryway to the berthroom. He didn't want to go back in there. He didn't want to see...

He _had_ to go back in there. 

Jazz gathered his resolve and walked in, and had to stop himself from crying out as soon as he saw Prowl. 

The Praxian was in worse repair than he had been before, if it was possible. He'd known it, but to see it, after Vortex had propped him back up on the stand... 

::Prowl?:: Jazz whispered. The optics were black, and he didn't know if he wanted to hear an answer, or...

They slowly flickered on, dim but aware. ::Jazz. Repaired?:: Prowl's choice of glyphs was unusually inelegant. The pain he must be in...

::Yes,:: Jazz said, voice heavy with regret. ::Primus, if I could have stopped him...I'll do better, I promise I'll do better.:: He glanced up at the wall-mounted cameras and moved carefully to the berth, not looking at Prowl.

::You adapt to him. You survive. Do not give him a reason to lash out,:: Prowl insisted, grateful to power off his optics. ::His natural cruelty does not need the help.::

::I didn't want to overload for him,:: Jazz said, desperate to make sure Prowl knew that, knowing they had little time to talk. ::He was going to corrupt my memories of you, he shredded--:: Jazz's voice broke. ::I lost--::

::You are strong. You did what you needed to,:: Prowl was struggling with just speaking this much. ::Never regret what you must do to survive.::

::Rest,:: Jazz soothed, as reluctant as he was to end the conversation. ::You'll be repaired soon.:: He hesitated, then, ::I will do what I have to, for you. No matter what I do or say or became, it is for you. Always. Yours,:: he sent the last word as a caress, laced with love and devotion and promise.

All Prowl could manage before the line cut and he slipped into recharge was a hum of acceptance and care.

Jazz bowed his head and carefully tucked the sound deeply into his processor. With Prowl in recharge, his focus shifted to what was to come, and his spark pulsed with nervous energy. 

By hardline, he'd been able to slip away, hide who he was and even change into something completely other. He hadn't felt like himself, and it had been a more effective mask than he would have guessed. 

But he didn't know if he could do the same with a sparkmerge. He didn't have any choice but to try, but if Vortex sensed anything... 

The door opened behind him and Jazz froze for a panicked moment before he heard the first step. It jarred him back and he focused inward, mimicking the _Other_ he'd been before as best as he could. Once he had Vortex close, his conforming programming would kick in, and Jazz had to hope that would be enough.

Instead of coming to the berth, Vortex first walked up to Prowl and slapped him hard enough to almost lift him from the dais. Pale optics snapped on, confused and unfocused.

"You're alive so you can watch, dust," the rotor snarled at him, forcing his helm to face the berth. "Now I take his spark."

Even if Prowl could respond, he didn't. His optics remained on, dimming slightly but apparently focused on the berth. Vortex snorted and casually hit a half-melted chevron as he turned to the berth and his prize.

Seeing that imposing frame, so much heavier and more massive than his own, was still enough to make Jazz's vents hitch as he looked up at it. Wordlessly, he turned onto his back, let his legs fall easily, casually apart, and reached up to his newly-repaired chest. Meeting Vortex's optics, he slowly traced his fingers up and down over the seam that he would soon part to expose his untouched spark chamber.

Vortex's engine revved hard at the sight and he knelt on the berth before lowering himself on top of his bonded. "You clean up well," he purred deeply, claiming a kiss that pressed his glossa against freshly repaired lip plates.

Jazz parted them, accepting the pressing glossa, swirling it with is own, letting Vortex ravage his mouth for as long as he pleased. When the rotor finally pulled back, Jazz followed with, keeping their lips brushed together. "I hope it is pleasing to you," he whispered into the light contact. "I wish for you to use this frame however you desire, my bonded, whatever your needs are." As he spoke, he trailed his hand down Vortex's arm and wrapped his fingers around his thumb and tugged. 

Vortex let his pet guide him, amused and willing to indulge for the moment, and felt his hand pressed up against Jazz's side over the thin abdominal plating. The noble traced over his fingers, one by one, and then grabbed and pulled sharply, bringing the claws into himself. 

Vortex rumbled with arousal and tensed his hand, driving them in deeper. His spike extended of its own volition at the moaning cry Jazz gave, the way that lithe frame both pressed into and tried to pull away. It was mesmerizing. He'd had no idea how erotic a truly eager plaything was.

Despite the moan the rumbled up through his chassis and the arousal that rolled off him in waves, Vortex unlatched his claws carefully before leaning forward to kiss his new favorite toy. "I'm going to enjoy teaching you everything I know," he nearly moaned in excitement. "But right now we're going to bond, and you need to be able to focus on your spark for it."

Jazz nodded and relaxed back onto the berth, trying to look at ease. The burning in his side, not pain, was easily ignored, but the sharp, pulsing fear that the words caused in him wasn't. He felt it come out in his field in a sharp flare before he settled himself. 

He could control his frame, and his words, and somehow he'd been able to control his processor, some instinct had allowed him to hide, but his spark... His spark pulsed and fluttered in his chest, feeling like it was trying to shrink down and hide. He didn't have a choice, if he didn't bear his spark, Vortex would certainly kill one of them, probably both. 

A rolling wave of lust washed over him and Jazz clung to it, pulled it into himself, tried to sink back into the calm ease he'd felt in the hardline connection. It helped settle his processors, and little else. 

It was all he could do not to lash out at the rotor. He stared up at him with huge optics, frozen. "I'm frightened," he whispered, hoping Vortex would take the fear as nothing more than being afraid of his first sparkmerge. 

The words sent a wave of lust through Vortex, drawing a faint shiver. "That's fine. Expected. I like it," he purred, tracing a claw along Jazz's chest seam. "Open."

Jazz obeyed with a shudder, intensely aware of how vulnerable the motion made him to the claws that were still hovering directly over him. It made him shake, hard tremors that seemed to take over his entire frame. It was nothing short of a blessing that Vortex both expected and enjoyed his mounting terror, because he couldn't hide it once his chamber was visible.

"Such a lovely mesh," Vortex purred as his optics focused on the fine gold lattice that enclosed the crystal and was adhered to it in several places that made opening it impossible without leaving clear evidence. "Such a bright spark. You'll give me strong heirs to work with." A claw slid closer, lightly tracing the chamber and the mesh around it. Despite his best efforts, both awe and unease whispered through his field. This was nearly as new to him as it was to the creature below him.

"I will," Jazz promised, voice unsteady, spark shivering. "Anything, I--" His vocalizer shorted when a hard surge of _horror_ shot through him when the claw carefully worked its way to the first welded attachment, the delicate mesh giving easily. He rebooted, dug his fingers into the berth to stop them from shooting up to cover his spark. "I will give you anything," he vowed, meaning every word. Anything to survive, anything Vortex wanted so he could save them both. 

"Everything," Vortex whispered lustfully, optics focused on the way the mesh gave and the pure terror in the pretty thing under him.

Jazz nodded, fighting not to turn his head, look away from the hard, eager lust in Vortex's gaze as the rotor worked his claw around the rest of the golden seal. This one didn't hurt to be torn, not the same way the other seals had. All he felt was a gentle prickling, but the way it was leaving him so much more vulnerable as it was sliced open was so much worse. "Everything," he managed, and then he felt the last of the seal cut through and his voice died completely as he froze. 

"Open," Vortex tapped the center of the iris, his field a maelstrom of lust, excitement and uneasy anticipation.

Jazz tried--he _tried_ \--but nothing he did, no matter how many times he tried to force the command through, could overcome the self-preservation coding that had flared up and was demanding that he protect his spark at all costs. It would have been enough to push him to fight, even as futile as trying to fight the heavy rotor frame would be, if it weren't for the protocols _screaming_ at him to obey his dominant, bonded mate. 

He couldn't move, couldn't cycle his vents, couldn't speak while the two instincts warred with each other while he stared at Vortex, horrified and waiting for a blow to fall as every silent moment went by. For a brief moment, the urge to protect his spark flared up, and his vocalizer kicked back on with it. "N-no," he stammered. "Please--I-I don't--"

"Much as I'd enjoy ravishing your frame, we _will_ physically bond," Vortex's optics went dark. "Even if I have to crack your chamber open to do it."

Jazz whined sharply and shrank back, utterly terrified by the violent promise. That threat--and the cold, powerful truth that rumbled beneath it--helped him quickly recalculate the odds for his best chance at survival. Preservation instinct synced up with obedience coding, just barely, but enough for him to initiate the command that Vortex wanted. 

Very slowly, with Jazz shaking so badly that he could see the soft blue light trembling as it started to reflect off Vortex's armor, the iris spiraled open.

Golden optics glittered in anticipation, bright and wide as they took in the offering. A single clawed finger reached delicately into the chamber, just enough for ever leader to focus on him. It drew a deep groan and shiver as pure spark energy crackled across his systems.

Jazz stopped the chamber from snapping shut at the intrusion just in time. His vents clicked as they tried to restart while he shuddered at the feeling that was all at once invasive, repulsive, chilling and _erotic_. Just the simple brush of the claw made him moan in unison with Vortex. 

It was gone a moment later and Jazz had enough time to recognize the struggle Vortex was having opening his own chest plates. They were much thicker, hardened and layered as true armor, and as the inner most layer parted Jazz could see his Intended's spark was a deep yellow-orange, pulsing slowly but strong. It was his opposite in so many ways. His beat fast, was bright, pale and called to life. The one above him _felt_ of death and destruction, even at this range.

The feel of it, the idea of merging with it, made his own shrink in a sudden alarm that consumed him. Jazz panicked and gave a choked cry as he tried to scramble back, kicking away and forgetting everything but the overwhelming desire to be _far_ from something so abhorrent to his nature. Strong hands grabbed him, pinning him easily without even trying.

Vortex didn't even notice the struggle Jazz continued to put up. He was too focused on forcing his systems to expose his spark. It was against everything he was, everything he wanted, but he had to form a physical bond with the creature under him or all the effort and credits spent acquiring him would be for nothing. The nobility liked their ceremonies and parties, but they demanded physical proof of a bond before it was recorded in the social registers. The same was true with creations. If Jazz carried them, they'd be nobles, but without the physical bond and proof that Vortex had helped create each one it did Vortex little good.

So the rotor managed to get his chamber open and lowered his chest to bring the two sparks together.

Jazz tried with everything he was to resist the merge, but as soon as the first seeking tendrils found his own, he felt his spark drawn up and in and his world lurched in a dizzying, blissful-fearful tilt. His frame went rigid while he focused inward, ignoring the physical pleasure that it brought him on contact in favor of protecting his mind. The merge completed and Vortex's presence looming through it, he had to hide until the merge was over. Frantically, he dropped the blocks that would allow the sparkbond to form and solidify and fled back from the darkness that was his bonded.

Shockingly, Vortex didn't seem to mind. He didn't pursue Jazz, or anything else. The rotor's full focus was on creating the bond and not giving up much of himself in the process. If Jazz didn't want to be aware, it made both so much easier.

When the overload crackled through them, it was a confusing relief for Jazz as his bonded's spark moved away. For Vortex it was unsatisfying but it did its job.

Jazz shivered with aftershock as everything snapped shut as soon as the separation was complete. He looked up at Vortex, dazed, and became gradually aware of a new presence that felt like it came in equal parts from his spark and his processor. He focused inward and examined it, wary. 

The sparkbond, the connection to Vortex that wouldn't sever until one of them deactivated. Jazz shuddered and backed away, wanting nothing to do with it. He was immensely grateful that Vortex didn't seem included to push. The bond was there, but it was silent. 

"There," Vortex huffed above him, coming down from the spark-overload. "It's official now. Supposed to let it settle before kindling. And I'm going to have some fun for a while before I have to get my spike modified. Can't damage you when you're carrying." With that he flopped gracelessly to his side next to Jazz and began to shut down for recharge.

Jazz carefully moved as far away as he could and huddled on the edge of the berth, trying to ignore the new sensation of the bond. Vortex hadn't pried for anything, which was an immense relief. The rotor couldn't see his motivation for pleasing him. Jazz had to be extremely careful not to slip.

Eventually Jazz glanced towards Prowl and saw pale, dim ice blue optics watching. He met the gaze and reached out his hand silently, sadly. He didn't know if speaking with Prowl would rouse Vortex, if the rotor would even be able to hear that.

::Do what you must to survive,:: Prowl's comm was weak, his frame unable to move between damage, low energon and the chains. ::You are strong, Jazz.::

Jazz wished he felt as confident about that as Prowl sounded, but he nodded. 

The door opened and Jazz sat up, tense. 

Two aides walked in, one Jazz recognized as the mech who had first escorted him into the estate when he'd arrived. Quickturn. He didn't know the other. He watched them silently, waiting for an explanation, until they moved towards Prowl. 

Jazz was on his feet in a moment. "What are you doing?" he demanded. 

They paused. "Taking him to medical, Lord Jazz," Quickturn said. "At Lord Vortex's command." 

Jazz immediately stepped back, sitting back down on the berth and watching intently. "Use great care," he ordered.

The two murmured their agreement in unison and very gently undid the chains and lifted Prowl from the stand. They hadn't even faltered when they saw this mangled wreck of a mech, leaving Jazz to wonder how often they saw something of the like--or worse. 

He suppressed his shiver and kept his optics locked on Prowl's until they had disappeared out the door, then sank back down onto the berth and tried to fall into recharge. He needed his strength.


	5. Celebration of Pain

Prowl booted slowly, allowing the medical sequence to run. He had no reason to contest it. He noted with only limited interest as all the repairs and new parts scrolled by on his HUD. He knew it all, but he read it anyway.

He was glad he did. He hadn't just been repaired.

Vocalizer: mechanimal grade. He wouldn't be speaking until he got out and repaired. His voice would never sound the same.

Comms. Completely removed. Not just disabled, but _gone_.

He did a quick check of specialized subsidiary systems. Systems that most mecha did not have, but as the seneschal to a noble House, he had them installed as part of his function. He smiled privately when they pinged back as fully functional. So Vortex's medic was not as skilled as they believed. Likely a gifted trauma surgeon, but not a full medic. Not good enough to recognize that seneschal systems included comms designed to mesh with the estate.

Very cautiously, he reached out with those systems to the estate he's barely had time enough to fully explore. His access still worked. Without turning on his optics or twitching, Prowl began his work. He needed a back door, access in case it ever occurred to Vortex to remove his legal access.

* * *

Jazz sat on the berth, knees tucked up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them while he watched Prowl and thought. The priest had tested and confirmed the sparkbond and left, saying nothing about the obvious changes and repairs made to Jazz's frame, and now he was gone from the estate. Jazz had been escorted back here, to find Prowl bound in much the same position as he'd been in earlier, but with heavier restraints. 

Basic repairs had been done, melted pieces stripped and cheap plating slapped on to cover internal systems, nothing that could call itself armor. The helm was barely even shaped and the face... hardly anything was left of the striking features Jazz had loved. There was no way to tell what else had been done to him, if his processors were even still functioning or if he was nothing but a decorative piece. He was alive--Jazz had heard his systems booting up a while ago--but there had been no movement, no signs of consciousness. His tanks churned at the thought of a living frame with no processor to power it, and desperately prayed something was left of Prowl. He would get them out of here, he would figure something out, but he didn't think he had the resolve to do it alone. 

Jazz watched Prowl's optics, desperate for even a flicker, scared to reach out to him, but as the silent, motionless kliks went by, his dread was increasing. 

::Prowl?:: he finally asked, then started when the send was flagged as undeliverable. He tried again, same result. The receiving end of their encrypted comm link was gone. He sat up straight. "Prowl?" he asked, louder than he should have, forgetting about Vortex's cameras and recorders for a moment.

Ice blue optics flashed to life and Prowl's helm moved quickly to focus on that beloved voice. Meeting Jazz's optics, he nodded and tried to form 'yes' with his much reduced vocalizer. What came out was closer to turbo-hound's low greeting.

Jazz started at the sound, shifting forward, confused as much as he was relieved to see the optics on, but not sure what the noise meant. "Your comms are gone," he said, stating more than asking, glancing towards the door, irrationally afraid Vortex would simply appear there any moment. "I thought... But, do you still hurt?"

Prowl shook his helm. It wasn't entirely true. The level of rebuilding he'd required meant everything ached and would ache for several orns even under optimal conditions, but compared to what he now knew pain could mean, he wasn't hurting.

Jazz relaxed a little. He knew that wouldn't last, for either of them, but to have just a single pain free moment seemed like nothing less than a blessing right now. He drew his knees back up and huddled on the bed. He wanted to go to Prowl, touch him, feel him, soothe him, but the eye of the cameras felt like they were burning into him. 

"I think," he whispered keeping his face angled away from them, "He's pleased with me. I thought he would kill the priest when he opened my spark chamber. Felt it through the bond." He shuddered. "Hate it. Like he's always there." He glanced up at Prowl, saw him watching, but the lack of any other response was starting to worry him. "Prowl?"

Prowl could only nod and make that low canid greeting again. He was aware. He was listening. He wanted to hear.

But Jazz was too focused on the sound. It wasn't Prowl, it wasn't Prowl's _voice_. "Are..." he started, then paused, reframed the question in his mind. "Is that still you?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Prowl nodded again, keeping optic contact.

"Can you talk?" Jazz asked, taking some comfort in the familiar gaze, the only thing unchanged in Prowl's appearance.

Prowl shook his helm.

"He doesn't need to talk, just scream," Vortex added as he walked in, golden optics sweeping across the room before he crossed to the berth and claimed a heated kiss from his bonded, all but forcing Jazz to his back.

Jazz didn't resist, tilted his head up to accept the kiss, quickly shifting Prowl to the side of his thoughts and focusing on Vortex. "Bonded," he murmured, as soon as Vortex released him enough to speak, trying to draw the rotor's attention completely to himself. 

"You are not to speak to the toys. You are not to touch the toys. Understood?" Vortex rumbled.

Jazz winced and nodded. "I'm sorry," he whispered, reaching up to touch Vortex's jaw, running his fingers along its edge. "Forgive me?" he asked, spreading his legs open, a motion he'd noted that had, so far, always made the rotor's engines rev. This time was no different. He could feel it, though his field and through the bond, that he had Vortex's _undivided_ attention.

"You," Vortex claimed a hungry kiss and retracted his spike panel. "I'll forgive. Arouse me."

"Anything," Jazz breathed, slipping down under the protection of his traitorous second creation programming, the systems that craved conformation to his bonded's desires and were flaring up with the need to answer that command. 

Jazz could have fought them if he'd wanted to. His were not nearly as strong as some, like the second creations in the highest nobility and royal families, whose bondings carried the weight of political allegiances and could incite war if mishandled. His were designed to help, to make him pleasing to his bonded and to take joy in pleasing, but he wasn't incapable of being independent of them, even if it would be a struggle. He could even disable them completely if he absolutely needed to, a failsafe in most coding like his own. Doing so would leave him damaged and traumatized, but alive. The failsafe was there to prevent mecha from being manipulated and harmed by those who would take advantage. 

Vortex didn't need his programming to manipulate and harm him. Vortex had something so much better. Vortex had Prowl. 

Right now, the coding was a tool to help Jazz lie to himself that he cared for this mech and wanted more than anything else to please him. He relaxed into a kiss, drawing Vortex down, and pushed a hand down the rotor's frame. When he couldn't reach the spike housing he broke the kiss and slid down to trace it with his fingers while pushing his hips further up.

Vortex lifted his frame up slightly and rumbled in approval of the touch. He could feel the honest desire in Jazz's field to please, and it wasn't driven by fear. It was an exotic thing, unnatural in Vortex's world, and he found himself craving it more than he cared to admit to.

Jazz felt it through the bond and in Vortex's field and allowed everything that was still left of _Jazz_ to slip away as he committed himself fully to the task and his enjoyment of it. His smaller engines purred in response and he used his free hand to stroke along plating edges in Vortex's chassis. His bonded was too heavily armored for him to dip into more sensitive wires from where he was, but Vortex still responded to the touch. 

When his second hand joined the first on the housing, Jazz used them both to rub and caress, then slid down further so he could press his lips right over, parting them slightly and x-venting, remembering how good this had felt on him. His coding neatly blocked the memory of what had happened after that, leaving Jazz completely focused on his task. A low, deep moan was his reward, as was the roll of Vortex's hips into the touch.

The spike housing's iris cover spiraled open, an effect that Jazz had not witnessed before, and the tip of the spike slipped out just a micron. He didn't hesitate to wrap his lips around it and rub with his glossa, though he was careful to keep his head tilted back so he could move if it extended quickly. 

Instead, it moved out gradually, allowing Jazz the time he needed to shift with it and pay careful attention to each section of the entire length as it emerged. His movements, which started out choppy and ungraceful, quickly smoothed out with the aid of Vortex's vocal responses and field flares. Jazz learned quickly, completely enraptured by the pleasured feedback he was receiving over the bond and wanting more of it. It made his valve cover slide back, exposing his second seal, and he redoubled his efforts. 

He heard a soft click when the spike was fully extended and shifted up, mouthing at the tip, rubbing the rest with his hands, pushing his frame at it from below. The razor edges cut him, but he barely noticed except to register the warmth it caused.

"You are good," Vortex shivered as he pulled away, lust bright in his optics and across his frame as he took in the energon oozing from Jazz and the way Jazz responded to it and him. "I'll reward you for this, as I punish him for his insolence."

The first thing Jazz felt was crushing disappointment as Vortex moved away. A flicker of confusion followed that. He'd _wanted_ Vortex, wanted to please him, knew just how much Vortex enjoyed breaking a seal like he had to offer, why would he move? And then the rotor turned towards Prowl, and all of that crashed down beneath the sudden dread and realization. His full awareness snapped back immediately and he bit down on his cry of protest at the last moment. 

Vortex still felt it through the bond, something he was gradually becoming used to, and he was starting to realize all of its potential uses. So his pretty bonded was still quite attached to the toy and its well being. He'd expected as much, known it really. He would break that. He glanced over and gave a falsely sympathetic trill. "Don't worry, we'll fix you of that soon enough," he said, then looked back to Prowl with a leer. "I know how much you enjoyed my spike last time, so I made sure they gave you a brand new valve, seal and all." He wrapped his claws around the Praxian's throat and gripped, pressing his mouth to the audial. "I'll make him overload to your pain, mechanimal," he hissed.

Prowl shuddered. Not to the threat to himself, he was somewhat prepared for that, as prepared as he could be anyway, but to force that on Jazz ... that would hurt Jazz far more than anything he could imagine. He couldn't even warn his love of what was coming.

Vortex grinned and mouthed at the audial for a moment, then scraped his denta over it, digging in as deep as he could with them. "Don't like that, do you," he chuckled as he pulled away and with quick, practiced movements, had Prowl out of the kneel and on his back. He forced the legs open, cracking one of the hip joints as he pushed it up and back, purposefully yanking it further out of place with another powerful twist, nearly severing the limb. Prowl's scream was closer to a howl, but there was no missing what the sound meant. Pain. A lot of it.

The sound sharpened when Vortex leaned in to rub his spike over Prowl's abdomen as he pawed at the valve cover while Prowl squirmed and struggled, such as he could. "You probably couldn't feel it from over here, but he _wanted_ my spike, wanted me to drive it into him, rip him open, the little slut. See how easily his affections change, mm?" He flexed his hand, sinking his claws in.

Prowl's hips bucked and he thrashed, fear and pain giving him additional strength that was still nothing against the larger rotor. He keened into a whimper; desperate, pleading sounds that ratcheted into another scream as his valve cover was torn away.

Vortex looked over his shoulder at Jazz to see the reaction to the scream. He could tell immediately that his bonded was trying as hard as he could to look unaffected. It was a good effort, better than he'd seen in a long time, but Vortex wasn't fooled. He knew the look of a mech trying to hide terror; it always came out in the optics. He grinned. This young noble had particularly expressive optics, too. "For you, my bonded," he said, tossing the cover over to land in front of him on the berth. 

Jazz looked at it without any expression and simultaneous horror came through the bond. It only made Vortex's arousal surge. The pretty creature had such delicious fear, he was going to fully enjoy causing it before he bred him and had to be careful for a while. 

Vortex looked back at Prowl. "Ready?" he cooed, voice falsely sweet as he shifted his hips back, aligning his spike with the seal and pushing lightly. 

Prowl only whispered, trying to force his frame to relax. He knew it would _hurt_ unprepared, even with a normal spike designed to pleasure. With that thing....

Vortex gripped Prowl's legs, revved his engines, and _pushed_ , snapping through the seal and burying himself completely into the brand new valve in a single thrust. He relished in the way that valve spasmed and contracted around him, then retreated when it met the hard, raised edges around his spike. Under him Prowl's vents had stalled out, the pale optics already white with pain and fear roiling through his field.

It was delicious.

It made him want more. He groaned deeply and pulled out, holding Prowl's legs still while the rest of his frame jerked and spasmed as he tore through the valve lining. The panicked screams washed over him and he shoved back in, slamming into the back, cracking it. Fear hit him from both sides, flaring out with near-insanity levels from the creature beneath him and rolling in deep, revolted waves over the bond. He focused in on those, used them and their direction to send something back. On his next push into the torn opening, he pushed his joy and lust at Prowl's agony over the bond. Behind him, he heard Jazz choke and felt a confusing wash of emotion and resistance slam back against him. 

Vortex pushed harder. He had the stronger will, the older spark, and on the berth, Jazz's shocked gasp shifted into a deep moan. Vortex chanced another look over his shoulder and saw his bonded slowly sinking forward, trying to hold himself up on trembling arms, optics huge and bright as he stared. The little thing's spike cover had retracted with the force of the sensation Vortex was sending over, even though there was nothing left there to extend. 

"Oh, he loves it," Vortex moaned to Prowl, stilling for long enough for the Praxian to quiet while he spoke. Another tug out of the valve, a slam back in. The pitch of Jazz's vents went up as they increased in speed and strength. 

Despite himself, Prowl found his thrashing had him looking at, and focused enough to see, Jazz on the berth. The way his love was leaned forward, mouth open and optics wide. The spike cover open, though there was no spike to cover. The whir of Jazz's vents over his own gasps and Vortex's fans in occasional moments of silence. The way Jazz's hand found the smooth panel that was his spike housing and rubbed it, his optics locked on the violation Vortex was delivering.

It _hurt_. It hurt more than Prowl thought possible. His next keen wasn't of physical pain, but from his spark.

Jazz heard the difference and sobbed, but he couldn't stop moving in time to Vortex's thrusts, couldn't quiet the moans they were pulling from him with each push of lust the rotor was sending over. He shuddered and doubled over completely, helm pressed into the berth and hips pushed high in the air, rolling forward and pushing into nothing but his own hand. 

He made a very lovely picture, Vortex decided, having followed Prowl's optics over. He tossed his head back with a deep groan as Prowl's grief washed over him, almost doubling his speed in a single moment. When he was done, when he had forced the little piece of frame that was his bonded to overload, he would take that valve as well, break the creature's spirit. "Enjoying yourself, my bonded?" he gasped out. 

Jazz's answering cry, resonating with pleasure, was telling enough.

At close range, it was easy to feel Prowl's will shatter with it. The next sob was right from Prowl's spark, his frame almost forgotten in the pain it couldn't compare to. He retreated as quickly as he could, curling up inside himself so he wouldn't have to see or hear anymore. It was already too late and Prowl knew it. There was nothing he could do about that but endure until Vortex was done with him and he'd been repaired enough to think.

Vortex almost overloaded when he felt the Praxian's spirit shattering, but with a control he almost never exercised, he held back and instead funneled the rush of ecstasy over to the noble. 

It was too much. Jazz shook and dug his fingers into the berth as his frame convulsed and arched with a hard overload that tried to center in on where a spike would have been, and meeting nothing, spread out through the rest of his systems. He screamed into the berth, losing everything to the wash of charge, and through the bond, felt Vortex overload immediately, felt what his bonded did, the way the broken valve clenched and spasmed in pain, the way transfluid shot out in quick, hot spurts, filling and burning. 

Jazz slumped when it was over, his sobs doubling when Vortex stopped actively pushing his pleasure over. He didn't have the will to pretend, not after that. He didn't even have the will to think about fighting as his second creation programming shoved him into the background when his bonded pulled out and tossed the broken, shaking frame that had been Prowl to the side and stalked towards the berth, lust pouring off him.

Vortex loomed over him and Jazz slipped away, sinking down, hearing the silent screams that echoed in his spark, guilt and denial and _pain_. 

Distantly he was aware of rolling to his back and spreading his legs wide, his valve cover open and the valve thick with lubricant. "Take me, my bonded," said a voice that wasn't his own. 

Easier to slip away, not think, surrender to what Vortex wanted. Enjoy it. 

Vortex focused in sharply on the shift in Jazz. "You _did_ enjoy that," he rumbled, crawling up over the smaller noble. He grabbed the parted legs and slid his hands up the thighs to the hips, then around to hold the aft and tug. 

The smallest direction produced immediate responses in the white frame and those hips lifted obediently up, moving to align with his spike. Vortex felt the tip come up against the seal and stop, aching to break through. He moaned, hot and ready, and nudged up against it. "So eager," he said, amazed and incredibly aroused by this creature. "So ready for it, aren't you, such a true little slut." He could feel the heat coming off the valve. "Pretty little slut," he breathed, and shoved forward, tearing through the seal in one smooth thrust.

"Only for you," Jazz breathed, moaning and shivering with the pain-turned-warm-pleasure and very natural pleasure of being filled. His entire frame arched and pressed back onto Vortex. His valve cycled and squeezed, wanting to learn every little detail about the spike he'd been created for.

Vortex groaned as he leaned forward, bending over Jazz and squeezing the slender hips as he thrust between them into the tight valve, so much more resilient than the first one he'd destroyed. This one had a much thicker lining, one that gave way to the sharp edges instead of tearing beneath them. Fully lubricated, Vortex was only just barely scraping enough to draw energon. It was amazing in a way he'd never anticipated and his charge shot up with the pleasure and desire pouring into his frame from below and his spark from the bond.

Yes, this little creature _wanted_ him, badly. Adored what he gave. His thrusts picked up as he focused on enjoying this and put the idea of making sure that other Jazz went away for good off to later.

It was thrilling to be wanted. No one had ever wanted what he gave before, and it was still surprising how much he enjoyed it. Yes, he enjoyed fear, and pain, and breaking mecha on his spike, feeling their panic and resistance. He liked it when they squirmed and tried to hit him, liked as they realized the futility of their struggles. 

But this was something else, something special, completely unique in his life. There would always be prey, but this was worth the credits he'd paid, even without the status gained by being bonded to a noble. It was exhilarating and he all but lost himself to it, well on his way to his second overload. 

Jazz sensed it, trilled his encouragement and pleasure, rolling his hips onto the rotor's spike. "Bonded," he keened, fisting at the berth. He was nothing but coding, a program designed to shape itself to what this mech wanted. And he _loved_ it. 

Deep in his processors, Jazz huddled and sobbed while his frame overloaded and his vocalizer screamed in ecstasy as Vortex spilled in him with a roar.

* * *

Jazz squirmed his way out from under the rotor frame once it collapsed on him and made no further move to shift him into another position and drive the spike in again. He'd been on his stomach, aft pushed up and back, and as he crawled forward, he felt transfluid seep out and trickle down his legs. He wiped uselessly at it and sat on the edge of the berth, knees to his chest, looking as he had when Vortex had first come into the berthroom. 

He didn't feel the same. 

Vortex had taken him over and over, pawed at him, torn his plating, rubbed his spike over his entire frame. He'd been consumed by lust, lust that Jazz had encouraged and inflamed. 

That was fine. That was coding, a tool, something he used to survive. 

But what Vortex had forced him to do to Prowl... 

Jazz thought he should feel _something_ as he looked at the collapsed, immobile heap that was the former seneschal, but there was nothing. 

But when he looked at Vortex... 

There was _rage_. There was hate. Cold and hungry and consuming, something he'd never felt before, not like this. He barely felt like himself. He'd been afraid before, but that was gone, frozen away. Vortex had used him to hurt Prowl, used the sparkbond, something that was supposed to be a sacred union, to torture him. 

Jazz would _not_ let Vortex use him to hurt Prowl. His gaze moved up and down the dark frame, rage increasing with every moment. He would learn how to block the bond, he would learn how to fight, do whatever he had to destroy the rotor. 

If he had to allow the shameless whoring that Vortex enjoyed and his coding was so eagerly reduced him to in the meantime, that was fine. Let Vortex have his noble whore, he would never have _Jazz._

And _Jazz_ was determined to destroy him, no matter how long it took.


	6. Party Animals

Jazz followed Vortex through the hallways of the estate, not meeting the optics of any of the mecha they passed by, mostly servants, a few relations of his bonded who also inhabited the large grounds. He was the Lord's bonded, a Lord himself, he was more than any of them. That was what Vortex wanted him to be, and so he was.

Right now he was going with Vortex to attend one of the rotor's gatherings. This one was being described as a post-bonding celebration, with the same mecha who attended the normal get togethers that Vortex hosted, for a small but dedicated community that was similarly inclined. 

Sadists, and Vortex was at the center of it. Quickturn hadn't wanted to tell Jazz anything when he'd asked, and only answered when Jazz had pushed the questions as commands. Jazz knew the aide had been the "centerpiece" of one of these gatherings before, and as one of Vortex's personal aides, was one of his better sources of information. 

Quickturn hadn't been happy to remember. 

Jazz felt his spark flutter anxiously when they reached the door and he quickly calmed it back down before following in. Calming himself was getting easier to do with practice, but it happened more often than he would have liked. 

The room was massive, a dungeon, lined on all sides with frightening looking tools. A variety of chairs and berths were strewn about, and several different energon dispensers, some that were designed to produce solid confections of the user's choosing. On the far wall was a screen, and in the middle, Prowl hung from his wrists, chin against his chest, pedes brushing against the floor. 

Jazz's spark clenched. It had only been three orns since Vortex had first raped the Praxian and forced Jazz to overload from it, and Jazz hadn't been able to communicate with Prowl since. Vortex had barely left their quarters, and when he did, he'd brought Jazz with, making sure he was never alone. He'd taken Jazz enthusiastically at every chance, and had started talking about teaching Jazz to enjoy the things he did. 

Jazz shuddered internally. No amount of coding could make him take the kind of joy Vortex did at another creature's pain. He would have to learn and pretend. 

"Who is coming?" he asked, deliberately loud, wanting to let Prowl know he was there, desperate for any sign of life or communication from him. He didn't know if Prowl despised him now, or even if Prowl was even still himself. The wingless Praxian frame didn't so much as twitch, its optics still dark.

"Onslaught, Brawl, and Lockpick," Vortex answered.

They weren't designations Jazz knew on his own, though Quickturn had whispered them fearfully.

Jazz watched as Vortex frowned and he walked up to Prowl and grabbed the mech's chin, forcing him to look up. Pale optics flickered on, the expression behind them blank, almost empty. "Pathetic thing. I really expected you to last longer."

A low sound something like a rumbling growl echoed up from Prowl's chassis. His vocalizer was limited, but his frame-sounds, his engine, hadn't changed.

He was angry. Hurting, helpless, submissive, but angry.

Jazz tried to meet his gaze, not even sure if he wanted Prowl to acknowledge him. He felt guilty, and ugly, for the good repair he was in when Prowl was hurt and starving. Jazz had free access to energon, Prowl usually subsided on only as much was needed to keep him alive, poured down his throat through a tube shoved into his intake. For this particular occasion, he'd been given more than double what he usually received, in anticipation of the strain it would put him through. 

Vortex liked having Prowl to play with, liked what it still did to Jazz when he tortured and raped him, _loved_ how Prowl cried when Jazz overloaded to his screams. Jazz hadn't figured out how to stop Vortex from sending his lust over the bond, hadn't even figured out how to start. He'd been trying as hard as he could, with no results. 

He stepped forward, hoping the movement might catch Prowl's optic. He was given no such response. Prowl's focus was completely on Vortex. Before he could think of whether to try again, the door opened to a boisterous and very low-caste drawl.

Vortex glanced over, though he knew full well who it was without looking. "Brawl. It's good to see you. This pathetic creature needs to know how much worse it could be than as my toy."

"Does he now," Brawl said, walking forward. He stopped when he saw Jazz and eyed him up and down, engines rumbling appreciatively. "That's your noble, then?" he asked. 

"It's Lord Jazz to you," Jazz snapped at him.

"Feisty," Brawl leered at him, completely unintimidated.

" _Mine_ ," Vortex hissed, rattling his rotor blades in warning.

Brawl cycled his optics in surprise, something that managed to make noise to Jazz's disbelief. Everything with this mech was _loud_. And annoying.

"Got it?" Vortex rumbled, rattling his rotors again in an effort to intimidate the larger, heavier and much meaner tank-former.

"I wouldn't let Brawl touch that one anyway. He'd never last an overload," a new voice rumbled as a convoy class mech entered with two heavy guns rising over his helm.

Primus, they were huge, Jazz thought, watching as Vortex stepped away from Prowl to join them. For the first time ever, and with the way Brawl kept glancing at him, he found himself grateful to have Vortex in the room. He shifted, putting the rotor frame in between himself and the tank, still watching the third addition, trying to decide about him. 

"Oh, a new toy!" was the last joiner's greeting, and the door closed behind him, presumably by Vortex's command. A grounder, he was smaller than the others, somewhere between Jazz and Vortex in mass. He looked completely at ease to be in the company. 

"Lockpick," Brawl rumbled. "Vortex won't let me play with the noble." 

Lockpick threw a look Jazz's way, completely disinterested. "Who wants that?" he asked, his voice a high, grating sound, gaze sharpening on Prowl. "Not in chains, love a toy in chains."

"Vortex needs to keep the noble functional," Onslaught dismissed the tank's whining and zeroed in on Prowl, walking over. "At least for a few dozen vorns and a creation. But this one ... used to be Praxian?" he gave Vortex a glance even as his large hands ran along Prowl's frame, taking it in as a lover might, but with very different intent.

"And you got rid of his wings?" Lockpick pouted at Vortex after he nodded in confirmation to Onslaught. "But the wings are so fun to _hurt!_ " 

"The rest of him is fun to hurt too, I promise you," Vortex grinned, watching as the others stepped over to each get a feel of Prowl's frame. "Don't worry about being gentle, he's got an alert that'll summon Flatline if he's close to deactivating. No killing," he added, with a hard look at Brawl. 

"Why?" Lockpick whined, his voice more grating than before if possible.

"Because he is mine," Vortex growled at the smaller mech as they all crowded around to paw at Prowl's frame, making the bound mech squirm and a small whine escape. "When _you_ host, you can set the limits."

That cheered Lockpick up immensely, and Vortex was sure he would find some guttersmech for just that purpose very soon. 

"So you'd like to see what it would be like belonging to someone else, huh?" Brawl said, taking Prowl's head in hand and turning it towards him. "We'll make Vortex look like a turbo puppy if that's what you're after." 

Jazz's spark sank. He had shifted as the group moved, always keeping closer to Vortex than any of the others, moving as silently as he could. He didn't dare bring attention to himself, not with that tank. Vortex would certainly try to protect his noble possession, but there was no guarantee he would win. Silent and still was his best option here. 

Silent, still and...watching. Vortex had made threats Jazz didn't want to risk by not watching. 

"No one could make Vortex look like a turbo puppy," Onslaught was commenting, behind Prowl now, examining the simple plating on his back. 

"What first, what first?" Lockpick asked, quivering in excitement as he pushed flush against the Praxian. "Ohh so many choices, too much to do to its frame..."

"Spit him," Onslaught grinned directly at Brawl, pulling on the chains that gave way to him smoothly enough. Prowl all but fell forward against the green tank, his hips pulled back by Onslaught. "I see he hasn't learned much." He pressed his fingers along the edges of Prowl's valve cover and crushed it to get a purchase to pull it away while Prowl screamed and thrashed.

"No fun for me," Lockpick sulked, but his optics were bright as he watched the two larger mecha move to their knees with Prowl held between them. 

"Don't worry," Vortex purred, then looked around for Jazz. He crooked a finger. "Come here, pet," he said. 

Jazz didn't hesitate. He knew that tone. He walked over and sank to his knees in front of Vortex, licking the spike cover he had come to know so well. It slid back and the spike poked out. Jazz mouthed at it willingly, eagerly, as the coding took over for him and made him _want_.

Lockpick watched unabashedly, fascinated. "Trained him well," he said. Vortex hummed in agreement, and Lockpick shifted closer. "Will he suck others, too?" 

"No others," Vortex snarled. "He only touches mine, and don't try it."

Lockpick scowled but settled in, resigned to watch for the moment. Vortex and his noble were sexy, but Onslaught and Brawl were hot with that squirming toy pinned between their hips as it was pounded from both ends.

Suddenly Brawl went from yelling profanities of enjoyment to ones of pain and he struck the bound mech hard enough to make Onslaught yelp in surprise. The next bellow came with a strike that tore Prowl's arms from their shoulder sockets and slammed him into the wall. There was energon _everywhere_ between Brawl's legs, pumping out from his torn spike until automatic systems shut off the flow.

A glance at Prowl showed the wingless Praxian with an insane look in his optics and a feral grin to match anything Vortex had shown on his energon coated face as he spat out a good sized piece of Brawl's spike. He didn't try to move otherwise, simply lay where he'd landed and watched the gathering with a slightly manic canid laugh coming from his vocalizer. It didn't take much to work out that he probably _couldn't_ move.

So he did still have some life left in his spark. Vortex was pleasantly surprised by that, he just hoped it outlasted the evening for him to break it again. 

Brawl had gathered himself up from the floor with a murderous glower on his face and started towards the Praxian. Vortex watched silently for a moment, then he put his hand on the back of Jazz's head. The noble hadn't once flinched or faltered in his attentions to his spike, as though the shouting and banging behind him hadn't even happened. Vortex stopped him with a gentle pressure and Jazz looked up, energon coating his lips from the tears from Vortex's spike. 

"What do you think, bonded?" Vortex asked, his voice making Brawl stop and look over. "How should we punish biting toys?" 

"Take his denta out," Jazz said simply. 

Vortex grinned and looked at Lockpick, tilting Jazz's head back down. "Sounds like a job for you," he said. 

Lockpick's answering grin was as manic as Prowl's as his focus sharpened on the Praxian and his engines rattled excitedly as he stepped over, brushing past Brawl and kneeling in front of the still-snickering mech.

"I'd gutter him," Brawl grumbled as he watched Lockpick kneel down, clicking in anticipation as he grabbed Prowl's mouth and pried it open, peering in. He had to be careful, as he found out by almost loosing half a thumb when Prowl shifted just enough to be able to snap his jaw shut.

"You already tore his arms off," Vortex said, unable to stop his chuckle at the sight of his companion's damaged spike. "You probably deserved that somehow, anyway."

"How am I supposed to have fun with him now?" Brawl snarled.

"Not my problem," Vortex hummed. 

"Feisty," Lockpick cackled as Prowl tried another bite at him before he managed to wedge a short rod into the Praxian's mouth, keeping it forced open. He pulled a small tool, one with a mean looking clinch at the end that could easily grab hold of something and snap it with the right leverage.

Prowl growled at him and squirmed, working his jaw and trying to get the rod out.

Lockpick largely ignored Prowl's efforts and grabbed his lower jaw, holding it steady. He muttered to himself in short, quick bursts of speech while tapping the wrench on the front denta for a few moments before selecting one, carefully settling the tool around it. "Take it apart, just little bits," he trilled, excited just by the thoughts of disassembling Vortex's pet, even in such a small way. He squeezed, testing briefly for strength, and then pulled his hand up, snapping the first denta. Prowl flinched at the sharp crack, but couldn't break from Lockpick's grip. Lockpick grinned as he tossed the small piece away. "Bigger bits later," he sing-songed, working his way down the bottom row. "Hurting bits later."

Prowl growled, but proving that Brawl's blow had broken important relays, his frame didn't move.

"We should melt the stubs down, or we just gave him better weapons," Onslaught hummed, watching the procedure. "A ring gag too. This one's got fight in him."

"True, not like he needs them," Vortex said, then tilted Jazz's head back. "Go and fetch," he purred to the noble, who stood obediently and followed the rotor's pointed finger to retrieve the requested gag. He returned to Vortex's side and leaned into his bonded's caresses and watched silently as Lockpick finished breaking the denta and started in on melting the rough edges. When he finished, the smaller grounder stood up and looked over, gesturing for Jazz to hand him the gag. 

"No," Vortex said, and with a small amount of pressure on Jazz's lower back, pushed him forward. "Gag him," he said. 

Jazz stepped over and knelt down in front of Prowl and held the gag out, gaze skimming over the melted down surfaces in Prowl's mouth, then looked into the bright, crazed optics. At this range he could feel Prowl's field, and it didn't seem as crazy as he looked. Recognition flickered there, and Prowl relaxed slightly, compliant to Jazz's handling.

Jazz pulled the rod out and gently slipped the ring into Prowl's mouth and settled it in place, not daring to let himself feel too much as he worked in case it came through too strongly in his field or over the bond. He focused intently on the task, clearing his mind of everything else as he leaned in and tilted Prowl's head forward to fasten the straps together, the motion bringing Prowl's face in close to his chest.

He heard a hoot of laughter from behind him. "I think the toy has a crush on your noble," Brawl laughed, his own misfortunes apparently forgotten for the moment. "Look at that, docile as anything!"

"Yes," Vortex growled. "He's being punished for it. Just not enough. Yet."

Prowl's field rippled with resignation, but also determined strength, before shifting towards the madness that seemed to be an act, now that Jazz felt it put into place.

Keeping his thoughts carefully neutral, Jazz finished securing the gag and rubbed his thumb over the back of Prowl's helm where none of the others could see. He let his fingers trail lightly as he stood up and walked back to Vortex's side. 

~You could have been less gentle about that,~ came Vortex's deep rumble over the bond. 

~An old habit,~ Jazz answered easily. ~I am trying. I know it would please you.~

That satisfied Vortex for the moment and he shifted his focus to Brawl with an amused smirk. "Think you could handle trying again, now that we've safety proofed him?" He dropped his optics down to Brawl's energon-coated spike panel. "That is, if you have enough left to work with. Oh, wait..."

Lockpick cackled and Brawl's look was full of murderous intent. 

"Oh, leave him alone, 'Tex," Onslaught said, kneeling in front of Prowl and grabbing him, forcing his spike up through the gag ring and shoving until lips hit his plating. His engines rumbled and he gestured Brawl over to get behind Prowl. "You can still hurt him, plenty of tools to choose from." He rolled his hips with a low moan.

"There is that," Brawl agreed with a gleeful grin. "He ripped mine, let's see how he likes it in return. Flip him over. I want to _watch_ what I do to him."

Onslaught pulled out of Prowl's mouth and turned him on his back and settled down, tugging the Praxian into his lap and hold him there, spike pressing up along the back of his head. He placed hands on either side of Prowl's helm, keeping it pointed down and immobile. "Go on," he said, prodding at him, grinning. "Extend it." 

Prowl didn't make any kind of motion to respond, so Onslaught looked to Vortex. 

Vortex came forward and looked down at Prowl, eying him, trying to decide how aware he was. "Do it," he said. 

Prowl looked up at him and with effort the cover slid open, but the spike was going nowhere. He extended his field, trying to convey _tried-failed_.

Vortex frowned as he heard the sounds of mechanics trying to engage, then snarled at Brawl as he realized exactly how much damage the tank-former had done when he'd thrown Prowl. "You broke my toy," he said, and shot a comm over to the resident medic who handled these engagements.

The acknowledging reply came in nanokliks, with a location ping. 

"Flatline will be here momentarily," Vortex said, and gestured Jazz over to kneel in front of him again while they waited. When Flatline arrived, Vortex simply gestured the medic over to Prowl. Onslaught, who had shifted to straddle his shoulders to push his spike into the Praxian's mouth again, moved out of the way.

Flatline knelt, plugged into the medical port, and hummed to himself, uncaring of the way Prowl's optics shot wide at the intrusion. He nodded and unplugged, finding the problem, and rolled Prowl onto his front to start his repairs. 

Vortex's attention shifted away down to Jazz while the medic worked. The white noble had been more than pleasing recently, perfectly so, since that first time he'd raped Prowl after the sparkbond. For an act that was meant to have broken them both, the effect on Jazz was...unexpected. Vortex still caught flares of distress, resentment, and loathing from his field and occasional flickering over the bond when the emotions got too strong. And there was the odd question of the shift that he felt when spiking the little thing. He wasn't going to underestimate him. He knew about the second creation coding and that Jazz had it...maybe there was a way to strip the rest of his processor without damaging that part. Once he was done with his fun, and had a couple heirs from him. He couldn't risk too much damage until that task had been completed. 

"There, lower frame mobility restored," Flatline announced, pulling Vortex from his thoughts.

" _My_ fun time." Lockpick got in before Brawl could. His pliers were in one hand and his spike already extended.

"Like Pit," Brawl rumbled, and started arguing with the smaller grounder. 

Vortex and Onslaught watched silently and Flatline came over to stand next to them. He knew better than to look at Jazz as he stood next to Vortex and leaned in. "May I stay?" he asked, optics on the Praxian instead of the arguers. "I've put him back together enough, haven't had any chance to take him apart yet."

"Yes," Vortex decided, rewarding his medic for work well done and his proper behavior.

In front of them, the fight was escalating and would turn physical if it wasn't stopped soon. Vortex was happy to watch that, but he could feel his companion growing impatient. Onslaught stepped forward with a low rumble. 

"Knock it off you two," he growled at the bickering pair before kneeling down and thrusting into Prowl's ring-gag open and denta free-mouth once more. "Lockpick's turn."

"What!" Brawl exclaimed indignantly while Lockpick cackled gleefully and jumped over to Prowl, crouching down in front of his pelvis. 

"Yes, my turn," Lockpick said, stroking the spike housing for a moment before tapping it with the pliers. "Extend, toy."

Prowl whined, a small shudder passing through his frame before he complied. He knew what was coming, and this time the pliers would _hurt_. Though compared to the blowtorch Vortex used, probably not as much, but that was little comfort.

"So obedient," Lockpick said, leaning in. He flicked the tip of the glossa over the the simple spike. It was a standard issue, hardly shaped and lacking in specialized textures, but it still had plenty of sensors. Lockpick recognized a cheap replacement when he saw one and grinned at Vortex. "Took his already, have you?" He snapped the pliers a few times.

"Melted it down to the core bundle," Vortex's grin was vicious. "It was very rewarding."

Lockpick purred as he examined the spike. "Don't worry," he said to Prowl, whose head was turned and held in Onslaught's hands. "I won't melt. I'll take you apart though, little hurting bits, lovely hurting bits, like to hear your screams." He touched the pliers to the tip and ran them up and down, optics bright and fixed. 

Prowl whimpered softly and tried to focus away from the signals from his spike by focusing on the push and slide of the long, thick and gratefully smooth spike down his intake, though he knew there was little point to it. As soon as the pain started, he wouldn't be able to think of anything _but_. The touch lifted away and Lockpick drew air in over rattling vents, and his field sharpened with anticipation.

With little other warning, the pliers squeezed closed on the side of his spike, sending a burst of pain through Prowl's systems. His engine revved hard in distress, trying to help him escape the bite. Above him, Onslaught moaned as the screams vibrated his spike in delightful ways.

"Oh yeah, do that again," the convoy class mech growled.

Lockpick chittered as he selected a different spot and clenched down, twisting his wrist a little as he did, testing the give of the metal and leaning in closer to examine it. Prowl's protests made him shiver with delight as he made his way up and down the spike, testing the entire thing, humming to himself, making little notes about the compressive strength. "Good, good," he finally said, settling right around the tip. "You'll come apart so nicely," he sang, then squeezed the pliers, crushing the metal, and twisted around, easily tearing the piece off.

This time Prowl's scream could be heard even around the spike filling his mouth and intake, and it was all Onslaught could take. With a roar he smashed Prowl's faceplates against his spike housing and ground his hips forward as he pumped hot, charged transfluid down Prowl's stretched intake.

Lockpick barely noticed as he gripped the next section down and tore away, then leaned in and wrapped his mouth around the damaged spike and sucked at the energon that was rapidly flooding out until the self-repair systems stopped it. "Tastes so good," he purred as he sat up and ripped off another piece, and another, while Onslaught helped hold Prowl down as the Praxian screamed and thrashed.

Vortex rumbled as Jazz's attention to his spike and watching the screaming, thrashing form of his toy began to really work up a charge. Next to him, his medic leaned in slightly, drawing his attention. 

"Would it be enjoyable to force him to overload often while still screaming?" Flatline asked with an eagerness his outer calmness did little to hide.

Vortex chuckled and absently caressed Jazz's helm. "I do love the way you think," he said, and gestured Flatline forward with his free hand. 

Onslaught shifted over to allow the medic more room next to the Praxian while Lockpick paused for a moment to eye him. "He still hurts," he warned. "Still screams."

"Oh, absolutely," the medic brought out a vial and syringe, quickly filling it. "He'll just also overload from the pain."

Prowl's optics were fully dilated and almost pure white as he shook his head and keened in denial.

"They're so cute when they think that will stop it," Flatline chuckled before injecting the mixture into Prowl's main energon line.

Lockpick waited until Flatline had pulled the syringe out, and then curiously dug the pliers into the torn spike and ripped away a chunk, watching intently for the new reactions from the toy. He grinned when Prowl screeched and thrashed, but the harmonics of his field also flared with a fresh charge associated with pleasure.

"Pretty," Lockpick trilled, shot Flatline an appreciative look, and tore off another piece. He shivered as the field washed over him and settled back into the work, chattering happily to himself, intensely focused on the inner workings of the spike. 

With a nod Flatline hooked a claw under a dataport cover, tore it off and groaned with a shiver as he plugged in. "What a rush," he moaned before grabbing Prowl's helm, tipping it back and pressing his spike through the gag ring.

"Feel when he screams," Lockpick said eagerly as he watched the medic and dug a claw into the mangled, open end of the spike, deep into the thick sensory clusters. He swirled it around and Prowl's hips bucked up with his muffled cry around Flatline. Visible charge flickered and sparked from the torn wires in his spike, surrounding the invading claw as it pressed and explored further.

"Ohhhhhh," Flatline moaned and thrust hard. "Keep that up, Lockpick. Just like that," he shivered, his hips thrusting harshly. "Plug in. You have no idea how good this feels."

Lockpick cocked his head and shifted around, data cable in hand, to slide into a secondary jack. He stiffened and shuddered as soon as it clicked into place and Prowl's pain-pleasure washed through into him. Curiously, he yanked away another chunk of spike and moaned in unison with Flatline as both mecha shook. "Hurts-good-hurts," Lockpick gasped as soon as he recovered his voice, and repeated the action. Prowl thrashed and shrieked beneath them and Lockpick touched light fingers to his own spike for the first time, barely ghosting them over the length. "Yeah," he whispered, and swirled his claw around again.

"Got to love chemistry," Flatline groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic and his grip on Prowl's helm tighter. "He's going to overload soon."

Lockpick moaned in agreement, a sound that sharpened with the next scream. His wrist twisted around and he threw his head back, mouth open as his intakes sped up. Prowl's spike more than half gone at this point, with bits scattered around them on the floor. Lockpick started taking smaller pieces, trying to make it last as long as he could, trying to drive the Praxian to overload before shredding the rest. 

One particularly sharp tug that snapped a thick cluster of sensory wires, and Prowl's optics snapped white as he overloaded, bringing the two mecha plugged in with him. Lockpick's optics were fixed on his spike, and he giggled halfway through his overload at the sight of transfluid spurting sloppily from the mangled piece, dripping back into and around it.

The overloads faded with a final static crackle and everything was silent for a long moment as they calmed down, only Prowl's shuddering sobs echoing in the chamber.

"That was amazing," Flatline looked directly at Lockpick as he panted, his hips smashed into Prowl's faceplates. "We have _got_ to get one of these that lasts long enough to reuse."

Lockpick chirred his agreement and grinned, optics flicking down and back up before they went over to the three large war builds who had watched the entire thing. "Anyone else want to play with it?" he asked sweetly, before looking back at Flatline and leaning in with a purr. "He made it hurt very prettily." 

Vortex smirked in response, eying the mangled remains of Prowl's spike. He was already making plans for how to destroy every single replacement the Praxian received--and he would receive a replacement, every single time. That insolent creature had stolen from him, and Vortex was nowhere through making him pay. He looked to Brawl. "Only fair if you want to take a turn," he said.

"Put your fist in his valve," Onslaught suggested when the tank looked lost on how. "Plug in so you get his overload."

Brawl's optics brightened at the suggestion. "Yeah," he rumbled. "Thanks, 'Slaught." 

"If you're going to do that," Vortex said, "Let me go first." At Brawl's first protest, Vortex rolled his optics and gestured at his spike. Brawl stared for a moment before comprehension dawned and he grinned. 

Vortex tapped Jazz's head, making the noble pause and look up at him. "You can watch for a while," he purred. 

~Yes, bonded,~ Jazz murmured, and shifted to the side, turning around. 

He wasn't prepared for the sight. He'd seen mangled--he'd seen _worse_ \--but the look in Prowl's optics and the way Lockpick was still chattering at the remains of the spike while he picked away at the broken wires, the way Flatline was smiling indulgently at him... 

His tanks lurched unpleasantly and he quickly looked away, unable to stop the flare of shocked distress and grief before clearing his processor. 

~What was that?~ Vortex hissed, whirling to look at him. 

~Nothing, bonded,~ Jazz whispered, averting his gaze. 

Vortex gave him a long, hard look, before looking at the others. "No one touches him, not even gently, not at _all_ ," he warned.

"Got it," Onslaught nodded.

"Yeah, no touching the noble," Brawl huffed.

"Move," Vortex gave Lockpick's shoulder a shove before grabbing Prowl's hips to lift him up a bit, lining up his spike up with the valve and thrusting in with a single stroke. The valve quivered around him, slicker than anything Vortex had felt before, and the Praxian moaned around Flatline's spike before it was pulled out, slicing through delicate lining.

Prowl's vocalizer hitched in a choked scream and his frame shook, optics going down to look at Vortex, wide and bright. 

"You really like this, don't you," Vortex taunted, then moaned deeply. "Don't get too used to it, though I have to say, watching you undone by your own agony--mmm--that must be embarrassing." He grabbed the Praxian's hips and sank his claws in, leaning forward. "Looking so pathetic in front of my bonded," he hissed. "How does that feel?" 

A sob was choked out by his next moan, the pleasure tearing through him on the heels of the pain, overlapping it and scrambling his responses. Yet in the pleasurable agony, that multi-tiered hub processor designed to be able to run an entire estate while maintaining a dozen conference calls and chasing after younglings and teaching a subject all at once recorded it, analyzed it and began to write coding to duplicate the desirable parts of it, all behind Prowl's consciousness.

He'd told Jazz often that he needed to focus on the future, be a survivor and adapt. He rarely spoke of the fact that he was the result of a long line of careful selective breeding to be exactly that: a survivor that did whatever was demanded of him.

Yes, this was humiliating, and painful, and it hurt his very spark, but even when he was too overwhelmed to think, even as they tore his frame apart, shredded his valve until nothing was left, injected acid into his lines, and even ripped open his chest to subject his spark to tortures he'd never imagined... Prowl was adapting.


	7. Breaking Hidden Chains

Peace. Finally.

He had no real grasp of how many times he'd been rebuilt, though he knew he could dig into his memories and find out.

He had no desire to.

Prowl gave no outward sign that he was aware, his systems as silent as he could make them. Vortex had not appeared in three orns. Three blissful orns of pain-free peace, quiet and uninterrupted time to hack his own code, make edits and begin to carefully infiltrate the estate's systems with tiny programs in anticipation of escape in the coming vorns.

Vorns.

Prowl's very spark shuddered at the reality that it was likely to take that long to escape. Yet vorns now was better than many more vorns if they attempted to run before the odds were in their favor. Prowl would not do that to Jazz. He had to be reasonably confident that when he told Jazz to run, they would make it. That meant credits, energon, supplies and contacts across Cybertron. A lot of credits for regular full-frame rebuilds for as long as Vortex still functioned, if not for their entire existences. The crimes they would have to commit to remain free were likely to be extensive.

With a metal shake Prowl turned his full focus to his work once more.

* * *

Jazz knelt in the middle of the berth, optics dimmed to almost nothing, hands resting on his knees, unmoving. He'd been in that position for more than two joors, and in the stillness, his internal systems had grown nearly silent. A side program tracked their noise level and the amount of work they were doing at any given moment, comparing and recording, setting the most efficient and quiet combinations aside for later use and practice. 

His x-vent was inaudible. His frame could have been a statue. 

Jazz was practicing. 

He had been bonded for almost three metacycles, and he still couldn't make even the slightest bit of headway in blocking the sparkbond. The puzzle was always running in the back of his processors, but for all the effort and thought, whenever he tested it, Vortex's presence loomed through, intrusive and demanding. He varied the ways in which he tested to avoid appearing too repetitive in his experimentation, sometimes choosing to step too close to Prowl, other times lying back on the berth and baring his valve, occasionally by dancing. Without fail, he would feel Vortex's attention sharpen and come through. He was beginning to despair of it even being possible. His access to the estate libraries was limited to fictional works, and even then only very tame ones. Nothing to learn from. It was maddening for the young noble who had spent so much of his life soaking up as much knowledge as he could, from whatever sources possible. 

Provided they were interesting sources, Jazz thought with an internal smile as he remembered Duet for a moment.

Not everything was stalled as much as his attempts to block the bond, though. His field control had improved significantly, though it was still nowhere near flawless. The orns he spent sitting on the berth in careful meditation, monitoring his emotions while he relived memory after memory, had proven to be the most effective when it came to that. 

He chose powerful memories, moments when he'd felt overwhelmed, almost unable to process everything he'd been feeling. The first night with Vortex and the terror he'd felt while trapped beneath the rotor's frame, saying goodbye to his creators for what he now believed may have been the last time, playing with age-mates as a youngling and laughing until he couldn't think, overloading beneath Prowl for the first and last time, sneaking into Prowl's quarters and kissing him, feeling everything returned when Prowl had kissed him back--

His field flickered. A slight frown marred Jazz's features for a moment as he analyzed the feeling that had caused it, and then he backed up and started over.

A text message pinged for his attention, set to a priority that only Vortex had, but listed as from Prowl.

_Download these files_

Three word-glyphs, and links to half a dozen files from the estate library.

The only outward reaction in Jazz's appearance as he read the sender's name was the brightening of his optics and their slight shift over to the Praxian's immobile form. 

It wouldn't be the first time Vortex had tested him to see his reaction to something, to judge his obedience and loyalty. He'd been caught in the first of the traps, and Prowl had suffered for it. 

Nothing like this, though. Jazz eyed the links, wondering if opening them would lead him into just one more snare, but before he had even fully finished the thought he knew he had to try. He couldn't ignore the possibility that they _were_ from Prowl. He opened the first and skimmed it. 

When he saw the contents, he could not have stopped his shock from slamming out into his field even if he'd tried. His position faltered slightly and an alarm immediately chimed in his head, refusing to quiet until he'd regained complete immobility. He opened the rest, checking and confirming. 

First and third hand accounts of warrior mecha who had blocked their non-warrior bondeds while in battle, for the safety of both. And more than that, the personal accounts of _how_ , and one document on the technical theory behind it. 

Jazz disengaged the motion alarm and carefully stretched, shifting so his face was away from any cameras, and looked directly at Prowl, optics narrowed and focused. The Praxian did not twitch, did not even indicate that he was alive except for the color on his frame, though he must have received the notice that the text had been opened. Maybe even that the links had been checked.

So Prowl could text him. And had some control over the network to give Jazz access to things he definitely should not have. That was not minor hacking as far as Jazz understood it.

Jazz focused back inward on the message and examined it, looking for anything else that might be hidden there, and found nothing. He shifted his attention to its pathway, looking for a way to trace it back. Coming from Vortex's command level, it had to have been rerouted through several encryption levels. 

Jazz frowned. He didn't dare try to send a message in return, in case it went to Vortex instead, or the rotor noticed it on the way by.

Unless... Prowl had accounted for that, and set it up so Jazz could respond.

He selected reply, deleted the original and added a non-descript message that Vortex would have no reason to object to, should it go to him.

_Are you available now?_

The response was immediate.

_Yes. I'm looking at you._

As Jazz read the cryptic comment, Prowl powered up his optics and lifted his helm just enough to meet Jazz's optics for a brief moment before slipping back into the feigned stasis he was so good at.

Jazz bowed his head and clenched his fists, the only outward sign of the intensity of _everything_ that surged through him. It was disproportionate to such a brief moment of communication, but was the first they'd really had in the nearly three megacycles since Prowl's comms had been disabled. He felt himself shake, visible, and quickly stretched out fully onto the berth to hide it.

He'd been still and silent while watching so many atrocities, but in this moment, he was incapable. He took a calming intake and vented slowly, relaxing his frame, while dozens of replies were written and deleted. 

_I'm adapting,_ he finally sent, head turned barely enough to look at Prowl.

_Good_

A single glyph, but one with many modifiers of affection, devotion, pride and determination.

Prowl, for all he'd been through in Jazz's designation, because of Jazz's weakness, still loved him deeply.

Even as he was grappling with that, he felt Vortex poke at their bond, intent and questioning at all the bursts of emotion he'd felt in the last klik.

Jazz swore silently and settled himself, then turned slightly onto his side and tilted his head back, trailing a hand down his neck and over the front of his body. ~Lonely,~ he trilled. ~Bored, thinking of you.~ While he answered, he pulled up the memory that had made his field flicker earlier, everything he'd felt when Prowl had kissed him, everything he was feeling now, and pushed it through, while quickly writing another message and sending it off. 

_Vortex. Concentrating now. I will learn._

Vortex's interest sharpened, but there was wariness there. 

Jazz sensed it, pushed his hand down to his pelvis and between his legs. ~So bored,~ he said, ~I've read everything here, nothing to do but this.~

~What would you like to have, to ease your boredom?~ Vortex pressed through the bond more firmly, but only felt what was happening in that moment, and that was most definitely Jazz wanting to play.

~Let me go out?~ Jazz asked, layering his voice with notes of mischievous intent, making it clear to Vortex the request was not serious if he did not want it to be. 

~No.~

Jazz pouted visibly and flopped back on the bed. ~Then you will have to come to me,~ he said after a moment. 

~I am busy.~

At one of his gatherings, with someone else hosting, so Vortex wasn't even on the estate grounds. 

~Then I need a toy for when you're too busy to spike me,~ Jazz purred.

~You will record everything you do with it,~ Vortex insisted, the resonance in the bond making it clear that he enjoyed the idea.

~Of course,~ Jazz said, and arched his back, lifting his hips up off the berth and tracing his fingers around the valve panel. ~I'll do whatever you want, _need_ to do whatever you want.~

He felt how hard that revved his bonded up, both from the mental imagery Jazz was sending and the words.

~I'll get you some toys,~ Vortex purred. ~For now, you'll have to make do with your own frame.~

Jazz whined and flopped back down. ~Fingers aren't big enough,~ he complained, then rolled onto his front and pushed his aft up, angled for one of the cameras. He bared his valve and slid his hand down, pushing at the opening, teasing himself. ~But if you want to watch...~

~Yes,~ the rotor rumbled deeply. ~You can be creative....~

Jazz hummed and pushed a finger in, turning his head, letting his gaze move about the room. Finally his gaze fell on a plush chair near the window. It was sculpted for a mech to be able to rest his arms with thick, ornamental knots at the end of the rests, which Vortex liked to grip when Jazz rode him. A smile drew across his lips. ~Creative,~ he echoed, and slid off the bed. As he walked, he swayed his hips purposefully and brought his finger up to his mouth, licking it slowly from base to tip. 

He lifted one knee up onto the seat and leaned forward, arms on the backrest, his other leg still on the ground. He straddled the arm and touched his valve to the knob, rubbing. ~Not as good as your spike,~ he purred, sinking down. ~Not as thick, not as deep, not as...~ He tossed his head back and rocked, moaning. ~...brutal.~

Though wordless, the sharp spike of arousal and desire _for Jazz_ was bright and clear across the bond.

~Such a wanton slut,~ Vortex shivered at the imagery and open desire he was feeling. Even though the words were an insult, they were colored with the possessive approval that Vortex couldn't hide and didn't realize he needed to.

~I know it's what you like,~ Jazz said as he rocked. The knob was shorter, smaller than Vortex's spike and not nearly enough to fill or even really stimulate the valve he'd been fitted with, but knowing Vortex was watching, feeling his lust, was more than enough as Jazz slipped away, relinquishing control to the eager creature that craved his bonded. He settled down into the calm hiding place. 

It was a place in his processors that Jazz knew well, removed and quiet, where he watched and felt, observed and recorded everything. He learned and thought in here, reviewed decisions, made plans...but right now, he used it to bask in a simple joy that Prowl still loved him. It was nothing that Vortex would be able to sense with everything else surging over the bond, especially as focused as the rotor was on the show Jazz was making of himself. But Jazz needed to feel it. 

He was only dimly aware of his overload as it hit, aided by his fingers stroking sensitive wires in his hip and chest, and heard Vortex's rumbling growl as it moved over the bond.

~Oh yes, I will reward you with a good toy,~ Vortex promised before his attention was drawn to his physical surroundings and the mech who was unlikely to leave Lockpick's playroom with his spark intact.

Jazz stilled as he felt the attention shift away, focused carefully on the bond until he couldn't feel Vortex there anymore. He relaxed, finally, and a shiver moved over his frame that had nothing to do with the aftershocks that were still crackling through him.

He could have caused them both to be lost, all for one moment of carelessness. 

He straightened and made a face as he lifted away from the chair, pushing away the purring part of his processors that was still basking in Vortex's praise and affection. The rotor's _feelings_ \--what passed as feelings, anyway--were just another tool to manipulate. He cleaned himself off, closed his valve, and returned to the berth to lay on his back and power off his optics. 

_How dangerous is this?_ he sent while pulling up the documents Prowl had sent him.

 _Only dangerous if caught. How independent is the adaptation code construct?_ Prowl sent back.

 _Not completely. Feel it more than I'd like._ Jazz started reading the first-hand entry on sparkbond blocking. 

_Be careful. Constructs can become independent enough to dominate._

Jazz looked at the words silently for a long time, forming reply after reply, none of which seemed adequate for what he was trying to say. He was sorry for everything, sorry for not being stronger, sorry that he hadn't been able to figure out how to block the bond on his own, hated how easily his frame responded when Vortex raped Prowl, missed his best friend, his lover, his Everything... none of it sounded enough in the simple text communication they were limited to, none of it could take the place of how badly he wanted to be in Prowl's arms. 

He could feel grief and longing making his field flicker and immediately cleared his processor. Just being able to communicate was more than he'd dared hope for, but it was almost more painful being this restricted. 

_I miss you._

There was a pause before the reply came.

_I know. I miss your touch too._

It hurt, how carefully clear Jazz had to keep his thoughts. He couldn't allow himself to feel anything, the potential consequences of being caught in this... As much as Jazz hated it, he realized it was better not to talk unless it was necessary. He could control himself with memories, but not with this. Not yet. 

He wrapped his arms around himself and ran his hands up to his shoulders, holding, carefully remembering as much he dared, before shifting his attention back to the documents. _Reading. I will learn._

Joors later a document link pinged. A technical and first-hand account of subordinate personalities generated by adaptive coding becoming the primary profile. 

* * *

Jazz read every document on bond blocking twice, once to commit the words to memory and again to fill the time while he thought. Cutting off another from a sparkbond sounded simple in theory, but in actuality, it required a dual strength and control of both spark and processor that he did not posses. Not yet, at least. But he was closer than he'd have guessed. 

Without realizing it, the meditation he'd been doing to control his emotions and field was a perfect place to start. The sparkbond was a constant spiritual connection with another spark through which, depending on the openness of the partners, anything could travel. Blocking it meant not only being able to stop anything from going through, but also having the strength to cut the spark off from the bond, and thereby stop anything from coming in as well. 

There was no program he could write, no deep ingrained code he could seek out, no hardware fix. Not that he could afford or acquire, at least, which meant it was all going to be on him. It would take meditation, time, practice, and above all, control. Once he could engage the block, it seemed like he would be able to use it at will, but that was a long time coming.

He was back to meditating when he heard the suite's door slid open and the familiar thumping of Vortex's stride. He x-vented slowly, onlined his optics, and looked up right as the rotor appeared in the doorway.

"Bonded," Jazz greeted, dipping his head, pulsing subservience over the bond, practicing sending emotion purposefully.

"Yes," Vortex purred, taking in his berthroom, the lovely creature kneeling on his berth and the near-stasis toy that had barely twitched in the four orns he'd been gone. "I brought you a gift for your good behavior."

Jazz immediately shifted up and leaned towards the rotor, this time trying for eagerness. "Thank you," he purred back, engines kicking on. "I get so lonely when you're gone for so long." 

"I suppose I can understand that," Vortex hummed and leaned in to claim a kiss that left Jazz reeling and almost melting as the coding construct began to come to the fore. Vortex set a shallow box on the berth. "I can't have you unhappy at my absence, now can I? Open it."

Jazz settled back to watch through the construct's optics as white fingers removed the lid and set it aside, the title of the last document Prowl had sent him feeling uncomfortably similar. He hadn't read it yet, but with the way that kiss had made his body thrum with pleasure, that was the first thing he was going to do when he had the time. 

He looked down into the box and saw a selection of fake spikes, none of them as frightening as Vortex's, and one...one that he quickly looked away from before he'd had time to realize why, but just _knowing_ that it would be a bad idea to let his gaze linger. A few devices he was unfamiliar with, though they had dials and switches on them, a black, rectangular piece of metal, barely thicker than armor, and a small knife with beautiful, delicate glyphs carved into the handle. Glyphs of pain and bliss. At a glance, he could tell just how sharp it was. 

He glanced back to the fake spikes and the one he'd looked away from, getting a better look. It didn't take long to realize that it was a replica of Prowl's original spike, the one Jazz had touched and stroked. 

That toy was to be avoided. 

"Thank you, my bonded," Jazz murmured. "You are too generous." He reached in and lifted one of the electric toys, looking at Vortex questioningly.

"Electricity play," he purred, excitement bright and sharp in his field as he lifted the object from Jazz's fingers and turned the smaller mech around, touching it to the top of his spine. Jazz felt a soft buzz that rippled down his back and intensified with every moment until he was gasping with the burning charge it created. "How would you like to put on a show?"

Jazz glanced over his shoulder at Vortex. "Right now?" he purred.

"Yes," the rotor rumbled deeply and stepped away, turning towards the energon dispenser in the room to draw a cube. "Select what you wish to play with while I wake my toy up."

So not the knife, certainly, or the electric toy. Jazz examined the other objects in the box, realized he was unsure of what the other electric looking one was for and not wanting to choose one that could be harmful to Prowl, and finally lifted one of the fake spikes, the next to largest, with severe ridges that circled the entire length. He looked up in time to see Vortex force the feeding tube down Prowl's intake as he held the unresisting mech up by the neck, then pour a cube's worth of high grade down.

Prowl thrashed as the intense charge hit his tank, jump-starting processing that had been shut down for orns. It looked painful, and Jazz had little doubt from the pleasure flaring across the bond that Vortex could feel Prowl's pain and was enjoying it. 

He rolled over on the berth and stretched out on his stomach, holding his selection out for Vortex to see when he turned back around. He kept his optics on Vortex's face, carefully not focusing on the way Prowl's frame jerked as it tried to cope with the potent fuel running through starved systems. "Vortex," he trilled, drawing the rotor's attention.

Vortex licked his lips in anticipation. "Go ahead, start playing with yourself. Make me good and hot to work my toy through his energon."

Jazz huffed to hide his very real distress that Vortex was going to stay focused on Prowl, then kicked his engines on and focused on the part of him that craved pleasing his bonded. He turned onto his back and ran his free hand down his body, tilting his head up and licking the length of the fake spike, looking right at Vortex as he did. "Did you enjoy watching me earlier?" he asked sweetly.

"Yes," Vortex actually growled, heated lust pouring through the bond as Prowl's spasms reduced to tremors. "You make quite a show, little slut."

Jazz moaned and palmed at his valve cover, pushing his hips up into his touch. "Your little slut," he said, "Get so hot thinking about you watching me, want to do whatever you want..." The fake spike slid down his front and replaced his rubbing fingers and Jazz spread his legs open. "Primus you make me shameless."

Vortex shivered at the words and the display. His spike cover slid open, but he allowed the spike to remain retracted and only pressurize out of arousal. In his hand Prowl struggled weakly as the energon hit his systems, giving him strength enough to think and move. Not that he was a challenge for Vortex even at his peak.

"Tell me how good it feels, what makes you the hottest," the rotor demanded with lust thick in his voice.

"When you hurt me," Jazz purred. "When I feel how hard it revs you up taking me apart." His valve cover snapped away and he rubbed against the toy, already leaving it coated with lubricant. He moaned again and drew his free hand up to his mouth, optics never leaving Vortex's face as he sucked at the tip of a single finger. He shifted the angle of the spike and pushed against it, lowered his voice. "Knowing I only exist for your pleasure."

Vortex moaned as his spike extended, quickly pressurizing at the sight and sounds. "My pleasure," he rumbled, shoving Prowl's neck to the floor while his other hand dragged the squirming mech's hips upward. "Every kind of pleasure I enjoy. What do you want me to do to this one, who dared touch you?"

Jazz hummed in thought and took the pause to examine the bond and the excitement that he could feel coming through. He took note of the direction and how it felt, then pushed his arousal back over. He sat up and turned, reclining back and spreading his legs. He lay the toy on the bed and fanned his fingers out over his valve, displaying it shamelessly. "Arouse him and make him watch while I overload." He narrowed his optics. ~Then shred his spike.~

Anger flashed to arousal before Vortex could properly form a snarl, so the sound came out an engine-deep growl. Vortex grinned and pulled Prowl to his pedes, trapping the mech against his chest with one arm while the other slid down Prowl's abdominals to his spike cover.

"Enjoy," Jazz trilled, circling his valve with a single fingertip before slipping it in and pulling it back out, slick and coated. Prowl's optics followed the finger up to his mouth, where he slowly licked it clean. "He wants it," Jazz said, smirking, reaching for the spike. "Look at him, can't even hide it, pathetic glitch. Bet he'd like to taste it." Jazz swirled the tip of the spike over the opening before bringing it back up to slip between his lips, moaning softly as he sucked on it, watching Vortex's expression as the rotor pulsed with arousal.

"I can feel it," Vortex rumbled, deep and resonant. 

With his spike trapped between his frame and Prowl's, the Praxian could feel what would be coming when the show ended. Yet all Prowl could do was stare. He wasn't even playing along and Jazz could read him easily. Yes, he wanted to pleasure that valve. He desperately wanted to touch and be touched by the beautiful mech on display before him. Somehow Prowl kept the whine from escaping, but he could do nothing about the more automatic responses as his frame heated and spike prepared to pressurize. He felt it, the knot of energy in the array just before the cover slid open to Vortex's light caress.

Jazz swiped his glossa over the toy, optics flicking down to the exposed housing before going back up to his bonded. He tilted his head and pressed his lips to the side, x-venting over it hotly, kissing up and down the length. "Never for you," Jazz sing-songed. "Sweet and hot and only for my bonded. But wouldn't you love it," he whispered, lowering himself down, relaxing onto the berth. The fake spike slipped between his legs and he slowly pushed it into himself with a soft moan. "Love to lick me until I scream and then slide in, fill me so completely." The toy disappeared as he pushed his hips down onto it. He pushed the way it made his sensors flare and tingle over to Vortex. 

The combination of words, visual and Vortex's skilled fingers delivering only pleasure to his spike and array draw a low moan from Prowl. He wanted to look away, to not hear the words he knew this profile meant but Jazz didn't, but he couldn't. He couldn't tear his gaze away or shut down his responses. He was going to pay for this, dearly. It was just a question of when and exactly how.

"This is your price," Jazz said, and as the toy nudged against the back of his valve he stilled and flexed the walls around it. He rocked his hips, slowly, and then again, and it drew a long, low moan from him. "Always look, never partake," he whispered. "Never feel." He twisted his wrist and shivered. "But oh you want it, I know you want it." 

A low, ragged moan was dragged from Prowl as his engine revved hard. His hips rolled into the touch on his spike, his optics locked between Jazz's legs. The heat and charge of the larger mech behind him fueled his own, driving his pleasure and desire to a dizzying height. "Jazz," Prowl breathed, almost a whimper as he shuddered against the powerful frame holding him.

Jazz lifted his head and grinned right at him. "Oh you want it," he purred. "And it feels _so_ good, love being filled like this, ohh," he moaned, lifting his hips into the air, changing the angle. "Vortex," he breathed, "He fills me so good, he's so good to me, gets to be inside me, gets to feel something you'll never feel." His helm fell back onto the berth as his wrist started moving faster.

Prowl could only moan and thrust into the hand. He wished he could say he was just playing along, but all three knew better. He _wanted_ , and he strained forward, not struggling but seeking to touch that beautiful frame he'd longed for.

Sensing it in the edges of Prowl's field and more over the sparkbond, Jazz began running his free hand up and down his body. "You want this," he breathed. "Want this frame, want to touch it and kiss it and bury inside it...it's so close, you're _so_ close and can't touch..." His knees fell apart and he shuddered as he drew the spike out. He pushed back in and whined. "Need a spike in me, never knew how much, Vortex showed me just how much..." He trailed off into another moan. "Waited so long and it was _so good_." 

Vortex rumbled hotly, rolling his hips to rub his spike against Prowl's back. "How bad do you want him?" he rumbled in Prowl's audial. "Just how much are you willing to pay to have one round with him?"

Prowl shuddered, trembling at the offer he knew he didn't dare take. Even if Vortex let him, the price would be far too high. He wasn't entirely sure how it could get any worse than it was, but he had no doubt that Vortex had something in mind when the offer was made. His entire frame on fire, his spike crackling in Vortex's hand and everything moving of its own accord, Prowl still managed to shake his helm.

"Are you sure?" Jazz trilled, layering seduction and lust into his voice. "You should feel the things I can do to a spike, feel how hot I am." He gasped and shook, no longer able to ignore the charge that was building in him, from the friction of the fake spike, from the lust rolling in over the sparkbond, from the helpless, burning arousal in Prowl's field that was straining to mesh with his own.

No, he wasn't sure. He was, he wanted it. He didn't dare admit to it.

Prowl could only whine and strain forward, trying to reach his field out enough to catch a taste. His hips bucked in time with Jazz, his optics on and recording but his processors no longer comprehending what he was seeing.

~He wants you so bad even I can taste it,~ Vortex rumbled over the bond, almost overcharged on the lust and power centered on him and the anticipation of what was about to come.

Jazz whined in response. ~I can tell,~ he answered, and his hips bucked up. "You could have this," he managed, his vents growing shorter and harsher. "He'd let you have me, let you drive your spike in, touch places only he's touched...ah, Vortex," he gasped, and he pushed himself onto the toy, groaning deeply, speeding up the rhythm of his pulls and thrusts. "Vortex," he moaned, then gasped and shook as he tipped over the edge. "Vortex, _Vortex!_ " he screamed, his frame crackling with overload energy. 

The rotor moaned as he watched, and as soon as Jazz's frame started to buck, he closed his fist and drove his claws inward, sinking them into Prowl's spike and twisting his hand up and down, shredding the spike down to its sensory core only a few nanokliks before the Praxian overloaded with a scream that was as much pain as pleasure and full of denial.

"Oh yeah," Vortex shuddered behind him, his own thrusts becoming urgent against Prowl's back. Without thinking he threw Prowl forward, so his hips folded against the edge of the berth. It landed Prowl's face barely a claw-length from Jazz's dripping, quivering valve and the toy he'd jammed into it, though Prowl didn't have time to contemplate that he was so close with his hands free before Vortex slammed forward, crushing him into the berth as that nightmare spike tore the valve seal and seated itself fully. He didn't even savor the tightness before pulling out, reducing the valve lining to shreds before driving back in.

Jazz recovered from his overload and sat up, engines still purring and racing, and reached down, grabbing Prowl's helm. He shoved back, forcing it up, straining the Praxian's neck and forcing him optic level with his valve, still clenched around the fake spike. A cruel grin crossed over his face as he pulled it out, baring his valve, still rippling. "Spike him," he hissed. "Tear this worthless toy apart."

It was absolutely impossible to miss Prowl's terror as it flashed through his field before being caught and contained, and all the while he screamed in pain and thrashed. Mindlessly his hands came forward and clawed into the only thing he could reach: Jazz's hips. Violated, panicked pain rippled outward from Prowl, his spark torn apart again just as he'd managed to piece everything back together.

Something snapped, deep inside, and he attacked what was in front of him. Instinct, pure and violent, code fragments dating back to long before Praxus rose up and took control, weaving themselves fully into Prowl's core code and OS. Right into his primary reaction tree.

He would kill before he died.

With the masochism protocols, it was shocking more than anything else, and Jazz snarled and tried to twist away, but the Praxian was stronger than he was and had a firm grip on the hip joints he was trying to tear apart. He squirmed, grabbing onto the berth as Prowl yanked him forward, and quickly snapped his valve cover shut, his construct's first priority immediately becoming protecting what his bonded valued. 

Jazz, watching everything, felt a surge of horror that he hoped Vortex would read as a reaction to the attack as he realized how much pain Prowl had to be in to strike out at him.

Vortex snarled as he was distracted from chasing his overload by the focus of his toy on Jazz, on _touching_ Jazz. The instant it clicked that the focus was on _hurting_ Jazz he struck Prowl hard just below his neck, cracking back armor and driving fragments into the cabling, tubing and mechanisms below.

A flash of light came from Prowl's optics and he went still enough for Vortex to make the thrusts he needed to feel the pleasure spiral out of control and crash through him with a bellowing roar.

Jazz kicked away, staring at the immobile form on the berth, then lifted his optics up to Vortex as his bonded gripped and thrust into Prowl, shuddering with the shocks. He froze as Vortex's overload crackled out and the rotor's hard gaze pinned him, not sure if he'd crossed a line. "Bonded," he trilled quietly.

"It _hurt_ you," Vortex growled in a full protective fury as he lifted Prowl's limp form up by the neck.

Think quickly, Jazz told himself, and sat forward. "What will you do?" he asked, keeping his voice as a soft purr.

He shook Prowl's limp frame, unsatisfied with the lack of resistance, then focused on Jazz. "You choose. I've liked your ideas lately."

Jazz looked Prowl up and down, slipping back into the construct now that he wasn't worried that Vortex would kill him. The construct was repulsed that this creature had touched what only his bonded was allowed. "Break his frame and make him watch me play," he growled, then glanced to the side at the box. He leaned over and lifted the spike that looked like Prowl's original and held it out. "Dip this in acid and shove it in his valve."

Vortex grinned, his engine thrumming in arousal and the bond thick with the twisted kind of approval he gave. "You are learning well. Once Flatline has fixed him, we'll spend a few orns on punishing him for his disobedience."

Jazz purred in response and lay back on the berth, spreading his legs wide. "Let Flatline retrieve him. Why don't you put that piece of nothing down and show him who owns me in the meantime?"

* * *

Repaired, no longer in pain, and it did nothing to settle Prowl's processors. He couldn't even quell the minute trembling of his frame as he knelt in his habitual position in Vortex's berthroom. He'd attacked Jazz. Injured him and intended to kill him.

It was beyond his ability to comprehend. The betrayal and hate that was still bright and hot with the memory were completely out of proportion to the events.

Why had he reacted so strongly?

Prowl continued to mull over it out of lack of anything much more productive to do. Three metacycles in and he was beginning to show the signs of stress at being still for so much of the time. He was not designed for it, physically or psychologically. It was only the low level of energon he was kept on that had him last so long.

It was going to be very bad if this took as long as he'd calculated it would.

A new message alert drew his attention. From Jazz, who was kneeling on the berth, not looking at him. 

_It wasn't supposed to go like that._

_I am sorry._ Prowl replied. It was all he could think of. Just how horrible he felt about lashing out like that. He didn't know if Jazz grasped just how close he'd been to being torn apart while Prowl was raped, but Prowl knew.

Jazz vented out, carefully settling himself. _I am too. Need to get you out._

 _Not without you._ Prowl insisted, not entirely sure whether it was his emotional attachment to Jazz or his loyalty to his noble that was speaking, only that he was not inclined to deny the demand. _I am working on it._

Jazz huffed, loud enough to be heard. He wanted to argue, he was figuring Vortex out, he would be safer here in the short term than Prowl and would figure something out in the long term. But arguing with Prowl was more than pointless, he'd known that since he was a youngling. 

_How can I help?_

_Block the spark bond. Gain estate access. Read and incorporate what I send. Gain Vortex's trust._

_I can do that. I will need to hurt you. Vortex loved that._

Prowl let out a small vent. _I know. You will. You will enjoy it._

_I won't. Not me, myself, my spark. Never._

Prowl was silent for a little longer than usual. Eventually he replied. _You will do what you must to survive._

In the sub-glyphs that created detail and intent, forgiven and instruction were dominant.

Jazz tipped his head forward and looked at his hands resting on his knees. There was no good response to that. Prowl was right, even if Jazz wasn't going to accept the answer. There was nothing else to say, not with this limited communication form, not without being able to touch Prowl and feel his field. 

_I will._


	8. Learning to Kill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warning: Carrier Snuff

It wasn't hard to watch, Jazz had seen far worse by now. When he had asked Vortex almost a vorn ago to teach him everything he enjoyed, Jazz could have never imagined the amount of technique and procedure involved in what the rotor did for pleasure.

He'd been shocked, horrified, repulsed, sick ... he had looked away knowing what the punishment for doing so was, and he'd lost almost his entire frame for it, had it flayed away with an electro-whip with the masochism protocols disengaged.

He hadn't looked away after that, but he'd been tempted, the first time he'd seen what Vortex was doing right now. He'd pulled this mech from the gutters and tortured him until he was almost deactivated before tearing his spark chamber open, cracking open the inner iris and laying it bare.

After that...

Jazz watched calmly, mostly through the mask he wore. The secondary personality profile, he mentally corrected himself. He'd read enough about it and now knew that was what he'd created while hiding from Vortex in those early orns. He had more control over it now, bringing it forward was less instinct and more choice. Prowl sent him a link about once every other orn to documents about it, accounts of subordinate personalities generated by adaptive coding becoming the primary profile. Jazz had memorized the process after the first reading, but dutifully opened them every time. He could understand Prowl's focus. They all said the same thing. The stronger the difference between the two profiles, the more likely the subordinate would become dominant if it was in control too often.

The mask, the adaptive construct, was happy to watch whatever Vortex enjoyed, so Jazz was happy to settle back and watch through its optics as Vortex drove his spike into the guttering spark. He didn't even find it hard to watch anymore, as Vortex overloaded and the spark flared and vanished 

Vortex dropped the graying frame and looked up at Jazz with a savage grin. "Your turn."

* * *

Jazz walked back to their quarters unescorted -- though he knew Vortex watched him the entire time through surveillance cameras -- and entered, not even pausing when he heard the mag-lock engage behind him. Prowl was in his usual place next to the berth and Jazz didn't look at him as he settled into his normal position 

Vortex had never questioned this ritual, and Jazz doubted if he had ever even taken notice of it. He x-vented slowly, settling himself down into his memory, engaged his motion alerts, and prepared to relive the entire experience. First, though...

_I was able to dull what went over the bond._

_Excellent._ Prowl single glyph response was woven with modifiers for pride, relief and hopeful anticipation. Despite all that was written into the small message, his frame did not twitch, not even his optics. Part of that, Jazz knew, was a lack of energon. Prowl had to conserve every drop he could to maintain even the limited awareness he had for long.

Jazz was working on a way to get more energon to him. Vortex kept a constant watch on the cameras overseeing their quarters, but with time, his attention had grown less strict. He still kept the feed up, but only focused on it if there was significant movement. 

Which meant he wouldn't notice a loop, if Jazz could figure out how to play one. He'd need access to the raw feed, and for that, he'd need the pathway. He'd been working on gaining Vortex's trust enough for just that. The rotor was paranoid. He'd never forgotten Jazz's resistance to him in the first orns. But what Vortex had been showing lately, and the things Jazz had felt coming over the bond while Jazz had obediently mimicked ... he thought he might have enough trust with one more demonstration. 

_I'm going to ask for a guttersmech to kill._

_You can go through with it?_ Concern for Jazz, not his kill, laced through the glyphs.

_I just did. I can do it again._

Prowl was quiet for almost too long. Jazz waited for the argument, the cautioning, the reminder that every time he'd done this, it had been with the understood threat of punishment if he didn't comply. This would be Jazz initiating, condemning a spark as soon as he spoke. But it didn't come.

 _Be careful._ was Prowl's eventual reply.

Jazz glanced over at him. _I will._ he sent, then dropped inwards and initiated the memory replay.

* * *

Jazz waited in the playroom, walking around the walls, looking at all the tools that would be at his disposal. He planned to use very few of them, and he was trying to calculate which would gain him the most approval in Vortex's optics. Everything needed to be planned and perfectly executed, or this demonstration would mean nothing. He was _this close_ to breaking through the mistrust Vortex still held for him, and he didn't dare ask for any of the numerous favors he would need to help Prowl until he had it. 

With luck, asking to kill in his bonded's name, for his bonded's pleasure, would be the extra push he needed. If the shine Vortex's optics had taken on when Jazz had asked was any indication, as long as Jazz performed well, he would have that and more. 

Jazz's gaze wandered to the center of the room where the kill would happen. He'd killed already, but never on his own, never by request. Whoever Vortex brought in, the death would be on Jazz, and Jazz alone. Prowl hadn't stopped worrying on that point. 

Jazz steeled himself. He could do this. He _would_ do this, and if it meant helping Prowl, he would enjoy it. His gaze sharpened and he watched the door, waiting, anticipating. He could feel the construction stir inside his processors, eager to be called on, eager for this and the approval it meant. Unlike Jazz, it had no morals that did not come from its bonded and it did not care.

The door opened with the movement of heavy plates and two guards stalked in, pulling as much as carrying the struggling victim between them. Non-descript and boxy as well as dirty and with the abused finish of one who hadn't seen a washrack in ages, and Jazz was grateful for it. It would have been so much harder if he'd managed a properly detailed Praxian. Jazz could see the golden optics of his bonded beyond them.

Jazz trilled a soft greeting to him as he watched the victim dragged across the room, expecting to see him strung up as Vortex preferred his kills to be, but the guards simply stopped and looked at him. Jazz stared back for a moment, then realized they were awaiting his instruction. A quick glance at Vortex showed he was being watched closely. 

"By his wrists," Jazz said, gesturing carelessly.

The instruction was obeyed quickly and efficiently, and too soon, Jazz found himself locked in with Vortex and the victim, who was trashing against the chains with an energy that Jazz found surprising. The kills he'd seen, while not being without their desperation and pleading, hadn't been this _spirited._

Vortex purred as he watched the struggling, but stepped up to Jazz and kissed him with all the possessive passion in his frame until the slender noble all but melted in his grip. "All yours, bonded," he purred as he released Jazz. "Show me what you've learned."

Jazz hummed as Vortex stepped back and he turned to consider the victim. He already had a plan in mind, something that would take time and little physical effort on his part, cause excessive pain, and hopefully be symbolic enough for his bonded to enjoy. His optics found the wide, panicked stare, almost too white to tell their normal color was some shade of blue, but not quite. Jazz held them for a moment, reconciling himself with the fact that this creature, but for his asking, would have still been alive tomorrow. 

"Flatline has prepared him?" he asked as he broke the gaze and strolled to the wall. 

"He will remain aware," Vortex answered.

Jazz nodded once and selected his tool of choice. As soon as his fingers closed around the handle, he felt the bond _surge_ with anticipation. He tossed a grin over to his bonded, and flicked the torch on as he turned back to the strung-up mech and held the flame up for him to see.

"Please-no!" the mech pleaded as his field flared out in a panic. "My-my sparkling, I'll lose him!"

Because he was paying attention, Jazz caught a tiny flicker of surprise from Vortex before it was washed away in the savage joy of how much harder that would make this mech fight.

"Sparkling," Jazz repeated, staring, and didn't take his next step as creator-carrier coding flared up. Both the victim and Vortex focused in on his obvious pause.

"I'm carrying," the victim pleaded. "Five metacycles along. His designation is Skywatch. He loves it when I can see the moons."

Jazz felt frozen at the words, and he was intensely aware of the golden optics watching every move, and the looming threat that echoed over the sparkbond. He opened his mouth, tried to get something to come out, and met the victim's optics again as his resolve started to crumble. 

White with terror. 

Like Prowl's, when Vortex raped him, tortured him, mutilated him. Like Prowl's when he watched Jazz screaming in ecstasy to the sound of his pain. Like's Prowl's when Vortex offered him Jazz's frame as he struggled to say no, again and again. 

Jazz's optics refocused and he took another step. Who was this mech to try to stop him from taking what he needed? He needed this kill to save Prowl, and this creature _dared_ beg him to spare him? Dared to presume his sparkling's life was worth more than Prowl's?

A snarl rose up in Jazz's throat as he made his slow approach. He couldn't stop, not now, and the carrier was trying to make it harder on him. Jazz wasn't going to let the efforts stop him. Too much rode on this kill. Prowl's life rode on this kill, and the carrier would have Jazz sacrifice Prowl to save his sparkling. 

"Then he will burn as well," Jazz said in a low voice as he grabbed the mech's collar and held the flame at full intensity up to his neck.

The mech screamed until his vocalizer melted, leaving only his engine to scream for him. His field lashed out, desperate and panicking to try and draw out whatever mercy or sparking-protection protocols Jazz had. 

Survival instinct and innate desire to please his bonded easily crushed any resistance those protocols might have offered and Jazz found it easier than he'd thought it would be to watch armor and exposed wiring melt away. He kept Prowl's face in his mind, basked in Vortex's heady approval, and took his time ruining the carrier's frame. Longer than he'd intended to, fueled by the rage that his kill had presumed to place its creation's worth above Prowl's. 

Almost nothing visibly recognizable as a mech was left when Vortex finally stepped forward. The spark chamber was visible through the melted, mangled chassis, the light flickering dimly. That and the optics, which had long ago grown unfocused with pain and ceased to display sanity, were the only signs of life. 

"Tear the armor away, expose his spark," the rotor purred, lust a blinding heat in his field. "Close your fist inside, feel the rush as it gives up."

Jazz obeyed automatically, setting the torch aside and reaching in, prying open warped plating that was still malleable from the heat. He ripped away the wiring surrounding the chamber and sank his fingers in, tearing what little protection the carrier's frame still offered away. 

The spark shone in front of him, soft and weak, and Jazz felt his vents stall as he looked at it, transfixed. A hard surge from the field behind him struck out, shaking him from his stillness, and he pressed his hand into the light. 

Energy rippled over his fingers as he closed them around the center and Jazz leaned forward, shivering as it washed over him. He looked up into the carrier's optics, saw them staring back with naked, uncontrolled horror, and he grinned. 

The entire frame gave a hard shudder as the helm lolled back and Jazz started as the wash of energy over his hand increased in strength, then gasped when it flooded up through him. The light that had previously been so weak to the point of fading flared sharply and with a hard _crack_ the delicate inner plating of the chamber warped and shattered, and the energy ricocheted back out, consuming Jazz's vision completely as it flooded through him.

He couldn't have stopped the moan if he'd tried. It was almost enough to overload him on the spot when combined with Vortex's lust against his back.

"Good show," Vortex growled against his audial before pushing Jazz to the floor, his spike hard and hot against Jazz's valve cover. "You're so hot to watch. Most erotic thing _ever_."

Jazz lifted his hips up and snapped the cover back, pressing his helm to the ground and crying out as Vortex slammed in. The single thrust in was all it took to push Jazz completely over the edge and he screamed with his overload, writhing in Vortex's grip. His bonded was still thrusting into him when the overload faded enough for him to feel it, and the lust, desire and approval pouring over the bond was enough to quickly push Jazz's charge up again.

Primus that combination felt _good_. Jazz whined and arched into the driving spike as the relentless pounding from behind made everything else fade away until he was too far gone to even think.

* * *

When Jazz rebooted, the first thing he was alerted to was a scrolling list of repairs for injuries he didn't remember receiving. New valve, repaired hip joints, replaced pelvic plates... the last thing he could remember was being held up from behind while Vortex... ah. 

His external sensors finished booting up and he onlined his optics to see Prowl's darkened frame kneeling across from the berth and felt the deep rumbling from the rotor frame pressed up against his back. An arm was wrapped around his middle, with claws curled possessively around him. Jazz shifted back, curling against Vortex. The construct was purring, ecstatic at the response to its efforts and Jazz had to admit that it felt good to have the bond humming with such pleasure, approval and enjoyment.

He didn't keep tabs on how long Vortex recharged against him, but it wasn't that long before the rotor began to boot, pulling Jazz close and nuzzling him even before he was fully aware.

Jazz hummed, letting the vibrations ripple through him, and turned his helm to nuzzle in response as he murmured a soft greeting. The construct had him opening his valve cover, knowing how much Vortex liked it when he had a seal to break, and pushing his hips back. 

"My pretty slut," Vortex mumbled, still half in recharge as his spike extended, and his boot sequence sped up so he could fully enjoy the pain and break and enjoyment the lovely creature with him had for it. He lifted himself and pushed Jazz to his back before claiming a kiss and driving forward, enjoying the resistance before it tore to his will.

Jazz tensed as he was filled and the new valve cycled eagerly around his bonded, then groaned as Vortex drew out, feeling the first of the injuries to the lining turn into a blissful heat. "My bonded," he murmured, pulsing soothing affection across the bond. "My only..." Jazz whimpered softly at the next roll of the rotor's hips into his. 

"Your only anything," Vortex moaned as he thrust in, relishing the way the mech under him responded even more than the ones who screamed and begged. "Your reason to exist."

"Yesss," Jazz hissed, fingers coming up to Vortex's chest, running over it, touching and stroking every surface while he lifting his frame into the rotor's. "Yours, yours, only yours, always yours."

Vortex moaned, thrusting harder, faster, as the bond backed up those words. It felt amazing and he didn't hold himself back from the pleasure coiling and spreading through him to crackle over his frame and spill from his spike, deep inside the willing frame under him. 

It made the white noble whine and shudder, triggered into his own overload from everything pushing over the sparkbond and through his valve. He held tightly to Vortex while they rode the waves out together, and as soon as it faded, was limp and purring on the berth. "Bonded," he murmured quietly, looking contentedly sated. 

"You are learning," Vortex purred, the simple statement significant praise from him. He pulled out and reached for a cloth to clean up with rather than using Jazz. "I have meetings until late tonight. Entertain yourself. I'll watch the good bits when I have time."

Jazz stretched out under him and pushed his excitement at the thought of performing to the camera through the bond. "If you give me access to the cameras, I can make sure they're all good bits," he said, engines giving a soft rev as he dropped his voice to a husky whisper. "I want to know you can see everything when I'm playing." 

Vortex's engine gave a hard rev and Jazz knew that he'd won. It didn't matter that Vortex had doubts on the wisdom of it. He'd worded it perfectly to get the rotor to comply. It was the first time he understood the concept that the subordinate mate could be the one actually in control at home. He'd long been told his carrier was the ruler, but he could never see it. Now, maybe, he understood a bit of why.

Instead of a verbal answer, Jazz was pinged with a set of codes and links.

He shifted up to press himself flush to Vortex and brush his mouth over the rotor's audial. "I'll put on such a good show, just you wait," he breathed, already running his fingers down his front to curl between his legs and touch his dripping valve that he'd never closed. He pushed them in and they came back glistening with lubricant and transfluid, and well aware that he had Vortex's rapt attention, settled himself back onto the berth and slipped just one finger between his lips, sucking it clean, never breaking optic contact.

"Yes, you will," Vortex rumbled, only barely able to tear his optics away so he could leave. It could have been a threat. With anyone else it would have been. But to Jazz, at least here and now, it was more a statement of belief than warning that he had better do so.

Jazz grinned as he watched the difficulty with which his bonded left the room, then rolled over enough to reach the box of toys next to the berth, and quickly accessed the cameras and adjusted the angle of his frame in accordance with the multiple feeds that covered every part of the berthroom. 

Before anything else, he had to give the show as promised. He slipped the largest spike between his legs and moaned, giving physical control up to the secondary profile while his primary attention shifted back to start carefully examining the feeds for access points. Heavily encrypted, and with the tamper proofing of the truly paranoid, they were going to take a long time to figure out. 

It was a good thing he had the entire day to work while his frame performed for Vortex. 

* * *

It was joors later when Jazz finally collapsed down onto the soiled berth and couldn't even summon the energy to refuel. He whimpered as he pulled the toy from his sore valve and slumped right there, exhausted from doing everything he could think of to stimulate himself for the cameras. He didn't know how many overloads, just that he'd been determined not to stop. 

A little while later, he rolled onto his side, recovered enough to think about getting up and going to the energon dispenser but still not quite enough to get there. His processor was similarly spent and it was with reluctance that he backed away from the camera feeds. He'd stared at the coding for a long time, seeing only an indecipherable mess, before he'd shifted his mindset to look at it from a different perspective. That one had seemed more promising, but he was stuck again, so he was taking a break. He looked through one of the cameras at Prowl, not moving. 

_I got the camera access._

Physically there was no reaction, but the reply came immediately.

_Good. Can you hack the feed?_

_Working on it. I._

Jazz shuddered suddenly, the rest of the message forgotten. The overload bliss was fading, and with it gone, his memory was returning and analyzing. With the pleasure-haze he'd been in since the moment the carrier's spark had gone out under his fingers, and with his attention on hacking the camera feeds, he hadn't had time to think about... 

The memory of the carrier's voice was loud and clear enough that Jazz could have believed he was standing right next to the berth. _"His designation is Skywatch. He loves it when I can see the moons."_

Jazz pressed his helm into the berth. "Primus," he whispered, _prayed_.

 _Jazz. What is wrong?_ Prowl's message pinged for his attention.

Jazz moaned and shook his head. "Hate me," he gasped, "Myself--I--" He cut himself off, remembering at the last moment that Vortex might hear everything he was saying, hoping none of it had been clear enough to understand, long past the point of worrying about the pain the rotor had to be feeling over the bond. He couldn't have controlled it even if he'd wanted to. His field flared out, distressed and chaotic, and he somehow managed to string together the glyphs for a single message. 

_I killed a carrier._

_I am sorry._ Prowl's reply was simple but full of grief and understanding, and something Jazz wasn't expecting: taking much of the blame for himself.

Jazz shook his head again and curled with his arms around himself, sobbing into the berth. _Enjoyed it._

Prowl shivered very faintly. _Vortex must approve of your performance. You did well._

Jazz didn't--couldn't--answer after that as he shook and wept on the berth. He would hack the camera feeds, he would block the bond, he _had_ to. Using energy he didn't have, he turned back to the feeds, desperate to focus on anything, _anything_ else.

He didn't remember going offline, and he was only just barely aware of energon being tipped into his mouth as a much larger frame held him up, and by the time he returned to full awareness, Vortex was already filling him. He was on his side, one strong arm wrapped around him and holding him up, another keeping his leg pulled back while the rotor grunted behind him, rumbling his pleasure with Jazz, his kill, his display for the cameras. He didn't mention the breakdown he had to have felt over the bond, and it hadn't dulled his enthusiasm in the least, for which Jazz was grateful. He couldn't lose the progress he'd made with that kill, couldn't let the carrier's spark go to waste. 

Jazz let his awareness drift blissfully away after Vortex's third overload, more than happy to let the secondary profile take complete control while he faded back, trying to stop hearing the carrier's voice and seeing a sparkling looking at moons.


	9. Freedom at a Cost

Jazz knelt on the berth, motionless, optics dimmed while he concentrated on the video feeds. One of the first things he'd managed to do was find the access codes and links to the rest of the Vortex's private surveillance, the cameras that weren't hooked up with the rest of the estate security. While looking through them, he'd found one pointed right at the small grotto where Prowl had been taken. They had never been hidden. 

Jazz had made sure Prowl had access to Vortex's security systems, but the Praxian was still locked out from doing anything more than observing, since the system only recognized Jazz and Vortex and had a paranoid security that even the seneschal systems couldn't hook up with. 

Accessing the entire network had been easy. What was taking him longer to do was actually manipulating the video feeds in order to override the live image with a loop to provide cover for movement. He was close, though. As a youngling, and later as a mechling, he had been a great frustration to his tutors with his tendency to look at things differently than how they were presented to him. A young noble was supposed to nod and memorize, and think how he was instructed to think, but Jazz had always wanted to know _why_ and _how_ and delighted in seeing how things could change when simply approached from a new angle.

A very small smile twitched across his features as one more level of security fell away. His tutors had called it impertinence, Prowl had called it creative genius.

His field held perfectly steady, even as close as he was to his goal, and the excitement surging through him didn't move over the sparkbond. If Vortex chose to look he would feel it there, but he had no reason to. Jazz had realized that hiding in plain sight was one of the most effective covers available to him. If he was still, Vortex never had any reason to check on the sparkbond, something that the rotor had no real interest in, and Jazz only had to make sure he didn't send anything. 

One more shift, and the opening he was looking for became clear. The smile grew wider and Jazz brushed away the last layer, and the raw feed lay in front of him. He already had a replacement feed set up, one of him sitting still on the berth, and slipped it in with a loop command. He held the loop and the live feed up together and compared them for any differences, double checked that Vortex was receiving the loop, and raised his arms over his head in a slow stretch. 

The live feed showed it, the loop didn't change. 

Jazz turned his head to look right at Prowl. _Check the cameras,_ he sent, then slid off the berth, optics powering up fully as he stood up, stretching fully. 

There was a very long pause, a full klik, and several small movements by the Praxian before Prowl responded. 

_I can find no indicators that it is a loop._

Jazz slumped with relief and walked straight over to Prowl, and, being as mindful as he could of the recent repairs and fresh injuries covering the other's frame, slid his hands onto either side of Prowl's face and touched their helms together, x-venting slowly and stilling.

Prowl trembled at the first gentle touch he'd felt in over a vorn and leaned into it, almost falling forward into it with a pitiful whimper at how difficult it was to comprehend that this wasn't a prelude to pain. He reached his field out, seeking to mesh with Jazz's, seeking reassurance that this wasn't a delusion created by his processor after being pushed too far.

Jazz tightened his hold almost imperceptibly and nuzzled back, then shifted one hand over to stroke his thumb over Prowl's lips and while the other lifted away for a moment to come back with a cable, touching it gently to Prowl's chest, silently asking permission. The panel slid open immediately, though it was as much from well-trained knowing that to refuse always meant having it ripped off as any real grasp that it was not going to hurt.

It was only when Jazz pinged for a connection that Prowl finally accepted that this might just be real and he hadn't been deluding himself for metacycles about what they've been doing, that they'd been exchanging text messages. A tiny burst of hope flared in him, quickly quashed on reflex at what Vortex would do to him if he caught such a reaction.

Jazz waited, holding very still but for the continuous, soft touch on Prowl's mouth, and kept his field as soothing as he could. He could feel Prowl struggling with the acceptance and was certain that if he pushed even the slightest amount, the Praxian would break. He'd been watching Prowl closely over the recent metacycles, and the madness that he wore when Vortex tortured him had started feeling less and less like an act. 

When Prowl allowed the connection, Jazz moved forward just enough to brush against his outer firewalls, and lowered his own completely. He felt Prowl rush forward at the opening, then the loss when the processors behind it suddenly realized he didn't know what to look for to reassure himself this was real.

With a sick feeling of accepting he'd simply have to trust, Prowl backed up to a more polite level and lowered his outer firewalls, such as they were. He rebuilt them each time, but Vortex was still able to shred his defenses in moments. He knew they couldn't be all that strong.

~Jazz?~ Question. Statement. Plea. Prayer.

Jazz shivered just from hearing his name and moved right to the edge of what Prowl had opened, no further. Almost a vorn since they'd been able to truly communicate, he'd all but forgotten what Prowl sounded like, _felt_ like. ~Me, it's me,~ he answered, pulsing affection and relief through.

Prowl shuddered again, this time the sound he made was a real sob while his engine stuttered and hiccupped and he leaned into the touch with _want_ for it. ~Hungry.~

~Here,~ Jazz said, drawing his hand away from Prowl's mouth and returning a moment later with a half-full cube that he hadn't finished earlier. ~Not too fast,~ he instructed, tilting it up. Too much energon, too fast, could wreak havoc on starved systems. Jazz had learned that under Vortex's tutelage, playing with mecha who were kept alive for dozens of orns before their sparks finally guttered.

Prowl complied, sipping it as he was offered. It was a vast improvement over having a cube forcefully poured down his intake. It wasn't even a full klik before more of his processor came on line with a mental sigh of relief. Linked as they were, Jazz also saw the ripple of activity as background programs restarted and began manipulating systems external to Prowl.

Jazz resisted the curiosity-driven urge to push forward and watch closer, and continued to linger on the very outer edge of Prowl's processors. He tucked the cube back into subspace when it was empty and brought his hand back up to Prowl's helm, slowly tracing the misshapen plating. ~Missed you so much,~ he whispered.

~Can you handle two more vorns?~ Prowl shivered and pressed into the contact, physical and mental, wanting it even more than he wanted energy. He'd held on for this for so long, it nearly made his gyros spin to finally have Jazz's touch and presence in the way he remembered it.

Jazz whined quietly and pressed back in every way possible, feeling his spark clench at the idea of spending even one more metacycle in Vortex's grip. ~I can, I will,~ he said, as much determined as he was despairing. ~I made it this far.~

~As have I,~ Prowl sighed, curling around the contact as best he could. ~The more I can siphon from him, the better our odds once we run.~

Jazz nodded, huddling into the mental touch. ~And I still need time. I can keep anything from moving over the bond, but I can't block him out.~ He huffed, a soft, bitter laugh. ~I practice when he overloads, he doesn't notice then.~

~Smart,~ Prowl purred into the contact and the choice. ~No matter what, you must be able to block the bond or he will be able to track us when we escape.~

Jazz nodded again and was silent for a few kliks while he basked in the simple feeling of Prowl's field and processors flush and mingled with his own, tracing his fingers carefully over the frame that was no longer recognizable as Praxian. When his hands returned back up to Prowl's shoulders where he'd started, he stilled and sighed, mentally backing up a step as he tried to think of a way to phrase what he wanted to say. Prowl didn't press, simply waited while Jazz wrestled with himself, for which Jazz was quietly grateful. Finally he decided that the simplest thing would be the easiest and stepped back in.

~I'm sorry,~ he said, and tried to push over his sense of how much of this was his fault. ~For all of this, for every time I help him hurt you, I...I'm so, _so_ sorry, I can't even...~ Instead of words, he pressed his disbelief that Prowl still felt anything but hate for him, and his simultaneous relief.

~There have been moments,~ Prowl admitted, the time he'd almost had his nose pressed into Jazz's dripping valve, the scent of the overload-heated lubricant while Vortex hurt him dominant among the memories of those moments. ~Loving you is the only reason I keep functioning.~

Jazz shuddered at the glimpse of that memory. ~For me as well,~ he said softly. ~Tell me how I can help you.~

Prowl simply leaned into the mental and physical comfort for a long moment. ~Focus on learning to block the bond. We can not leave before he can't track us. Keep my energon high enough to remain aware. Half this level at least. Not enough that I start looking better, but enough that I can keep my seneschal systems active.~

Jazz smiled a little as he listened. He'd had a feeling that was going to be his answer from the work-focused Praxian. ~I will do that,~ he promised, then leaned back far enough to look into Prowl's optics, and his mood sobered again. ~How do I help _you?_ You have been struggling.~ He reached out a soft mental touch and brushed it over where he could still feel madness lurking.

Prowl shuttered his optics and shuddered, seeking more physical contact. ~The energon. I ... know how to cope, but I must have my processors energized. Manage _this_ as often as is safe.~

Jazz nuzzled him and began his careful, gentle stroking of Prowl's frame again. ~I plan to do this as often as is possible,~ he murmured, shifting closer and bringing as much of their frames into contact as he could. ~I'm scared of losing myself,~ he added in a whisper. ~I don't like what I... what he makes me into.~

~Lean on me when you need comfort,~ Prowl told him with a warm upwelling of support and affection. ~We will see each other through this.~

Jazz shivered with relief and selfishly took the support, well aware of how much pain Prowl lived in and how much he should be the stronger right now, but unable to stop himself with it offered so freely. Prowl had been his safety for so long, it was hard to change that feeling. 

As soon as he felt steady again, he sent as much as he could in return. ~The loop won't look suspicious for a few more joors. I'm going to stay right here until then.~

Prowl didn't answer with words, instead he allowed the rush of gratitude and _want_ for this to envelope them before settling, allowing them both to simply enjoy the closeness and contact so long denied them.

* * *

Jazz strolled through the garden, face upturned into the light and heat from the sun as he passed by the extensive variety of imported organic growth. He'd never imagined it would feel this good to be outside again, and he hadn't smelled air this fresh since he'd first stepped through the estate doors. With everything that had happened, he hadn't even realized how much he missed it. 

He paused to look around, recording everything in the highest detail he was capable of to transfer to Prowl later. The Praxian had asked for a walk-through of the outer gardens, and with the recent freedom Vortex had been allowing Jazz with the estates, it had only been a matter of a post-overload request, purred into the rotor's audial. 

Jazz made a face as he looked into yet another decorative mercury pool. Vortex still had complete control of the door to their quarters. He was letting Jazz out, but he still controlled when Jazz could leave. It was another problem they would need to overcome. Prowl didn't have access to the lock systems, at least not for the Lords' quarters, which meant it was going to be on Jazz. They couldn't rely on Vortex giving Jazz the codes, which might change at any moment, which meant hacking the lock. He resented having to spend some of the time he could hide behind the recording loop doing anything but touching Prowl, but it was necessary. 

Jazz passed by the small grotto that marked the single night he'd been with Prowl, spending no more time looking over it than any other part as he continued along. It wasn't until he reached the opposite side of the grounds that he finally stopped for a moment, sitting down on a bench and staring at the ground, lost in his memory of that night. 

"Lord Jazz?" A low, quiet voice disrupted his thoughts. "May I ask a question?"

Jazz lifted his head, looking at the servant he hadn't even noticed approaching. "Of course," he said, forcing an easy smile, unable to stop himself from pulling the last time he'd seen this mech, back at his creators' estate.

"It is known that Lord Vortex took Prowl," the mech said softly, his optics down. "May I know his status for his next of kin?"

Jazz's optics widened and he grew very still, unprepared for the question. Well aware that Vortex could be watching him, Jazz paid careful attention to the bond for anything coming through, but it was still, no instruction forthcoming. Jazz refocused on the servant, then lowered his gaze back to the ground. "That is not for me to say," he answered quietly.

"My apologies for disturbing you, Lord Jazz." The servant bowed and quickly left.

Jazz watched him go, then rose to his feet with a sigh. He needed to finish his walk and get back inside. Vortex may have permitted him to leave, but that certainly didn't mean the rotor was going to forgive unnecessary lingering. 

* * *

When Jazz entered the berthroom, he noted that Prowl was fully energized, though looking a bit dazed still, and Vortex was grinning, all but vibrating with eager anticipation.

He paused, examining the situation carefully while giving Vortex a warm smile and inclining his head in submissive greeting. "Thank you for allowing me to walk in the gardens, my bonded," he said, pulsing affection and gratitude over the sparkbond.

The rotor purred. "You have earned some freedoms, and a reward. Make yourself look good on the berth."

Jazz hummed as he walked gracefully past Vortex and Prowl, ignoring the latter completely as he obeyed, sliding onto the soft material and turning onto his back. He stretched, making every movement as slow and sensuous as he could, before reclining back, one knee up while the other leg fell to the side, casually spreading his thighs just enough to be tempting. He settled one hand at the base of his neck and slowly trailed his fingers down to the junction between his hip and pelvis, then traced the same path back up, watching Vortex the entire time as the bond thrummed with lust. "As so, my Lord?" he purred.

"Yes," Vortex rumbled hotly. He grabbed Prowl by the back of the neck and hauled the unresisting but fully coherent mech to the end of the berth. He forced Prowl's face up. "You will pleasure him. Fail to knock him off line and I will punish you severely."

Jazz's engines gave a sharp whine of protest as his relaxation vanished. He managed to stay where he was, but his head snapped up from Prowl to Vortex as two different profiles warred for the appropriate response, and very real distress and confusion pushed over the bond. "Bonded," he trilled, softly and imploringly, "I don't understand..." 

"He still desires you," the rotor growled. "After all this, he _still_ desires you. So he's going to get a more direct lesson. I _will_ break him before I extinguish him."

"But my frame is only yours to touch," Jazz murmured, still confused, and very alarmed on another level, though he settled obediently back down.

"Your frame is mine to do with as I will," Vortex corrected with unusual patience, a mixture of pleasure with Jazz and irritation directed elsewhere coming across the bond. "Right now I will see it used to teach this creature a lesson."

That answer was enough to settle the spiking anxiety in both profiles, leaving the construct happily purring to perform and Jazz to worry about his response and how serious Vortex was about extinguishing Prowl. His legs relaxed and fell apart while he licked his lips and looked at the rotor. "Anything, my bonded," he purred. 

With a nod and flare of pleasure towards Jazz Vortex shoved Prowl forward, forcing him to stumble into the berth. "You heard, _thing_ ," he snarled at Prowl. "Make him scream with pleasure as you've wanted to."

Prowl tore his optics from Jazz to look at Vortex with real fear, then settled back on Jazz and let the lust he'd felt for so long flare inside him. He climbed onto the berth, his joints stiff from lack of use, and knelt between Jazz's legs. Unable to speak, he looked at Jazz, hopeful for some directions, though his frame knew what it wanted.

Jazz stared back, optics wide, trying not to think about how many times he'd imagined seeing this. Never had Vortex been looming overhead, golden optics watching everything. Jazz shivered and wondered if it would be better to ignore him or try to think about him the entire time. 

That thought almost made him laugh. Vortex would never do this. 

_Won't take much. Wanted too much._ Jazz settled back, laying down. As much as he wanted to watch, record every moment, he knew that was too dangerous. If his desire for Prowl came out too strongly... 

He didn't want to think about what would happen if Vortex read that. He didn't want to think about what would happen as soon as he overloaded, so he tried to clear his thoughts and ignore everything but the sensory input.

Lacking any further direction and with Vortex looming behind him, Prowl shivered and admitted to what they all knew. His field bloomed rich with desire, focused on the now quite simpler looking mech he loved so much. His spike slid out, simple and basic, but still rich in sensors. He leaned down and shuffled forward to nuzzle Jazz's valve cover, grieving that he wouldn't be able to explore the options of Jazz's spike.

A burst of jealously exploded over the bond to Jazz, only barely kept in check by self-control neither smaller mech thought Vortex possessed.

Jazz sent as much affection as he could back over to the rotor, and then both interface covers slid back immediately at the next soft touch and Jazz's vents hitched as air hit his valve. He stared at the ceiling, hands curled into fists, trying to imagine anyone but Prowl between his legs, someone he didn't care about, focusing on his field and keeping it steady.

It wasn't easy as Prowl's glossa caressed the ring of fine platelets around his valve entrance, sending tingles of pure pleasure into Jazz's systems.

He couldn't stop the whine that escaped him and the way his field fought against his control to mesh with Prowl's, which was so eagerly caressing him. Just that simple touch, like nothing he'd ever felt... Jazz whined again at the next swipe, shivering. His systems knew what it was and responded. His valve slowly began to release lubricant as Prowl continued his oral efforts, swirling his glossa over and through the platelets, teasing the entrance, but not penetrating.

His hips lifted up into the touch, starting to push back as more of his systems engaged automatically. Jazz stared up at the ceiling with optics that refused to focused properly, and slowly, one of his hands crept forward and hovered over Prowl's helm while he shivered and gasped, wanting to pull him in but at the same time, not daring. He bit his lip as lubricant continued to leak out, feeling himself grow slicker while his valve started to ache for something, _anything_ to fill it.

Prowl purred at the first taste of lubricant, intent on enjoying this for all he could. His pleasure, lust, desire and all the rest swirled freely through his field. Eventually he lifted his helm and regarded Jazz's pleasure-soaked features with a rumble of approval. He no longer cared about the angry mech behind him. Vortex didn't matter. The future didn't matter. Only this moment did, taking and giving what they had both long wanted.

With a shiver he moved forward, covering Jazz's frame with his own and claiming a heated kiss as he pressed his hips forward to sink into that welcoming frame.

Jazz gave a short, startled cry and froze, looking up into ice blue optics that gazed back, intense and focused. Too close for their fields not to tangle, Jazz's flared blissfully out and for a long moment, they held there, feeling the pull and tug of the other, simply taking everything in. Looking at Prowl, Jazz forgot everything else and his arms came up to wrap around Prowl's shoulders, and he took a shuddering intake, pressing back into the kiss.

Anger flared across the bond, but Vortex did nothing, said nothing. He simply watched and silently raged as Prowl's hips rolled into each slow thrust and the kiss continued.

Jazz could feel it and a very small part of him tried to stop but the rest of him was too caught up in the touch, the kiss, the blissful, smooth slide of a spike that wasn't laced with sharpened edges. His valve tightened and rippled and pulsed, taking every trick he had learned in Vortex's berth and using it to pleasure this new spike that Jazz had wanted for so long. He moaned and choked back on the name he wanted to cry out, using the kiss to help.

He could feel Prowl's engine rev as the Praxian ground their entire frames together with each sliding thrust. Prowl would never reach as deep as Vortex, or stretch the valve as far, but he knew pleasure and how to give it. One hand moved down Jazz's side and hooked under a knee to bring it up.

Jazz's engines gave a hard rev at the way it changed the angle of his hips and spread him forcefully apart, and he arched up into the touch with a harsh gasp, fingers digging into Prowl's shoulders as he pressed into each drive of the heated spike. He wasn't going to last long, not being able to feel Prowl's field like this, but he tried as hard as he could to hang on. 

The kiss broke with a sudden, low groan and Prowl's hips jerked sharply, then again, only to grind against Jazz's as he overloaded. Energy crackled from his spike and frame into Jazz, but no transfluid came.

Jazz whined sharply as the excess energy brought him right to the edge of overload, and held him there, entire frame trembling with need. "Prowl," he begged, almost sobbing, and bucked his hips up, seeking the small push he needed.

He knew the moment Prowl's frame was his again when the Praxian began full frame thrusts. One hand slipped between them to rub a thumb around the flat cap on Jazz's spike housing, triggering the pressure-sensitive sensors still below it.

It was enough, it was _more_ than enough, and Jazz arched up, grabbing Prowl and pulling him flush while he drove himself onto the spike, valve spasming around it until the charge faded too quickly and he slumped, dazed and venting heavily. He only realized that Prowl hadn't stopped when the motion drew a whine from his vocalizer and his frame shuddered at the same moment that triumph turned to fury across the bond, though still Vortex didn't move.

Jazz shuddered as the fury continued to deepen and held onto Prowl as tightly as he could, focusing on the movement and the way his hips lifted eagerly back up into it until the charge was high enough that it blocked everything else out. He moaned deeply and pulled his other leg back, wrapping both of them around Prowl's waist, using them to help pull his lover in.

Prowl continued to thrust, rolling his hips to rub against every node, things he knew Vortex never tried to do. If he hadn't been so desperate to feel Jazz around him, just once, he'd have handled this very differently. Right now he did the only thing he could and used his hands to entice the extra charge to build for his lover. He wanted to kiss him again, but it was impossible when all he could focus on was burying his face against Jazz's neck and moaning at the intense pleasure.

Jazz wrapped his arms around Prowl's head and neck, tilting his head to press against Prowl's while the small vibrations of the moans did amazing things to the wires his lips touched. The way Prowl was moving was setting his frame alight in a way Vortex had never managed and it was making it hard to focus, hard to think about what he should be doing other than holding on and reveling in the feeling of their fields dancing against one another. 

It was more than amazing, even just the physical aspect. The spike was a simple one--small, cheaply made and quickly installed--but it meant there was no pain. Even more, Prowl was focused on Jazz's pleasure as much as his own. Fingertips slid under armor to caress, that thumb regularly returned to the cap on his spike housing. They were touches that Vortex never bothered with because Vortex was only after his own pleasure.

Low, soft sounds slipped from Prowl's vocalizer as the grunts became louder, harsher, with his building charge.

Jazz stifled everything he wanted to cry out--Prowl's name, praise, joy, song--and it all came out as a desperate sob while he struggled to return the pleasure in equal part, feeling completely outmatched. He knew how to use his valve to stroke a spike to overload, but the rest of it... Vortex wasn't interested in touch like that, which left Jazz fumbling almost as much as he had the night in the grotto, inexperienced and unsure of what to do.

Prowl didn't seem to mind if the noises he was making were any indication and just hearing Prowl in pleasure, feeling his field rippling and spiking with each slide in, pushed Jazz into a second overload that was just as strong as the first, if not more. His valve clamped down while he shook and cried beneath the Praxian, trying to pull him over with him, desperate to feel his overloading field joined with his own. 

He got it, just as his was trailing off. The powerful rush of pleasure and energy from Prowl's systems crashed Jazz into a second overload before the first had even faded. He distantly felt himself sobbing at the intensity, the intimacy, and wasn't coherent enough to even whine when he felt Prowl pull out. He was still dazed when he found himself on hands and knees and Prowl inside him once more, but now covering him as he thrust. It kept Jazz's hands busy holding them both up and freed Prowl to touch more.

His fourth overload came faster than Jazz could imagine, and settled him into a pleasured daze as he lost track of everything but feeling good with peaks and lulls until a final sharp high shut him down.

As soon as Vortex felt the sudden lack of awareness as Jazz was knocked offline, he let all the rage and jealousy he'd been pushing down flare out as he stepped forward and grabbed the back of Prowl's neck and yanked him off his slumped bonded, throwing him to the floor.

Prowl, tired and worn out as he was, didn't even try to process what was happening. He already knew Vortex meant pain, and he knew the instant the rotor had poured energon into him that it was time to _hurt_.

Vortex stepped over him and dropped to his knees, striking the center of Prowl's chest with the heel of his palm with his full weight behind it. "Hope you enjoyed that," he growled, pinning the unresisting mech between his thighs as he brought both hands up and sank claws into Prowl's chest plates, then wrenched them apart, tearing him open. "Hope you'll think it was worth it," he added with a sneer, "Though I'm thinking not."

Prowl couldn't answer, not really, but deep inside he knew he'd treasure the memory even as he screamed in pain. Reflex forced him to fight, to try and protect his suddenly exposed spark, even though he had no hope of stopping whatever Vortex had planned for him.

Vortex purred for a moment while he watched the pathetic struggles from the creature trapped beneath him, before he reached out and grabbed his arms and yanked them up, pulling hard enough to easily crack the shoulder joints out of place, as low quality as the metal was. He shifted his grip and twisted, wrenching any important cables out of place, then dropped the useless limbs back onto the ground before leaning in and easily prying open the outer chamber. He tapped a single claw against the iris, making it chime, then dug it in and gave a warning growl even as he started pulling. Prowl could open, or Vortex would do it for him.

As terrified as he was, as strong as the coding was to protect his spark and chamber, Prowl found the command to open the iris. His entire frame trembled under Vortex, fear for his life he thought long past him surged upward at this threat.

The terror washed over the rotor and made him groan heavily as his spike cover snapped back and the pressurized tip came out. "Oh, do that again," he moaned as he dipped the same claw right into Prowl's spark and swirled, shivering at the energy that rippled over his hand. With his free hand, he reached back and found the valve cover without even needing to look and tore it off. Prowl's sharp cry and the simultaneous pain in his field made Vortex shake. "So good," he breathed as he shifted back, sliding one knee between Prowl's legs, then the other, parting them. He took Prowl's hips in hand and tugged as he leaned forward, looming over him, spike emerging more fully to nudge against Prowl's valve, but he wasn't focusing on that. 

His optics were fixed on the pale blue spark that lay bare in front of him, and the sound of his chest starting to part with the quieter whisper of his spark chamber opening was all too clear.

Prowl's optics spiraled wide in shock, then horror as he grasped that Vortex wasn't going to just play with his spark. The physical contact was bad enough. Such intense pleasure from such a hated source tore at Prowl's coding, but to see that spark, one that had only been exposed once before, the orn Jazz had been bound to the rotor, pushed him past panic and into pure irrational terror.

It made Vortex's spike _throb_ just to feel. If nothing else, he would at least get to enjoy this creature's fear, even if he didn't break. Another surge rolled over him and he sank his claws deep, and wrenched down, tearing through the hip joints. "Just like that," Vortex moaned, soaking it all in and jerking his hips forward, unable to keep from burying inside the broken frame. "Pit yes," he gasped, shuddering, as Prowl's pain flared into the mix, then grabbed the smaller frame and pulled it flush as his own inner iris spiraled open and he brought the two sparks together while giving another short thrust of his spike.

He pushed the merge fast, reveling in the pain it caused, only realizing that this spark was reacting differently when it was too late. He tried to pull back, but found the energy of his spark locked with Prowl's. The Praxian was physically unable to move, but Vortex had never encountered a spark that could do anything other than shrink back from him and cower.

~You've come into my realm,~ Prowl's awareness hissed between their sparks. The sense of a pure, rage filled predator stalked around the rotor's awareness. Calm, focused, unhurried and very, very sure of itself. ~You would try to kindle with me. Force me to bear your creation until you ripped it out of me. You know so little of this place.~

Something surged up through Vortex, an alarming uncertainty that he'd never felt before-- _fear_ , something deep in his processor whispered--and he tried to jerk back and found it impossible. He snarled and flexed his claws, ripping as deep as he could, but even as he felt the pain from the physical frame wash over him, he was still trapped. 

_Fear_ turned very quickly into _panic_ as he struggled to escape. ~Insolent nothing,~ he hissed back, stalling. ~You should only be so honored to bear my creation.~ But the words felt hollow and sounded weak, even to him.

~No, Vortex. You will bear mine,~ Prowl's voice was strong, certain, even. The pale spark surged, enveloping Vortex's much as Vortex had done to Jazz. ~You were created far below me. You will always be below me. You can break my frame, send my spark back to Primus, but you can not erase the truth that is here.~

Vortex heard a sound and in his panic, it took him a moment to finally place it as his own voice, screaming, as Prowl's spark surrounded and trapped him with a viciousness he had rarely encountered in his life. 

The next thing he felt was a sickening lurch and everything tipped sideways as he dropped off a sheer cliff and hurtled into a void--

And then he was back, looking through his own optics, seeing the ceiling and hearing the echo of Jazz's shout playing back in his audials. It was quickly drowned out by the low, enraged growling coming from the other frame on the floor.

"What _is_ that thing!" Vortex roared as he found the coordination to get to his pedes and rounded on Jazz. "What is that thing you brought into my house?"

Jazz stumbled back and hit the berth, shocked and reflexively raising an arm up over his face. "Wh-what?" he gasped, groping behind himself for leverage while staring up at Vortex, beyond confused and instantly alarmed by the look on the rotor's face. 

"That is not a mech. What _is_ it?" Vortex pointed harshly at Prowl's prone and damaged form. "It survives everything. It tried to force _me_ to carry _its_ creation. What _is_ that thing you wanted?" He howled, nearly mad, the bond uncontrolled and full of his fear.

Jazz shrank away when Vortex turned back to him, optics darting between the rotor and Prowl. He'd come online to a blissful glow that had been shattered by the sound of two voices screaming in unison and seen Vortex holding Prowl, forcing a sparkmerge while he gouged the Praxian's sides open. Jazz had felt sheer terror over the bond, seen the pain Prowl was in, and lunged forward to break the two mecha apart, each profile in him desperate to save one of them. 

"H-he's a seneschal," Jazz managed, lowering the arm just a little. "Just a seneschal, that's all!"

"Just a seneschal?" Vortex screeched. "They're all like that?"

"Like _what?_ " Jazz asked, straightening up a little more when Vortex didn't make any more forward progress. His arm stayed out in front, but some of the tension was fading. "He's the only one I know!"

Vortex growled in frustration that was only partially directed at Jazz, but Jazz was the only thing moving in the room, so he caught the brunt of it. Without warning Vortex pounced on him, dragging him the rest of the way up the berth and digging his claws into Jazz's chest plates. Not enough to tear, not like he'd done to Prowl, but a clear warning that a merge was coming, _now_.

Jazz opened up immediately--part reflex to obey, part well-engrained knowledge that he would be ripped apart if he disobeyed--and tried to suppress his horrified shudder. Vortex was not interested in spark merges, Vortex didn't _like_ spark merges, Jazz hadn't prepared for something like this! His iris spiraled open and he braced himself, shaking, and had to hope Vortex was too unbalanced right now to get much from him. The mech certainly didn't seem focused in the right way.

The merge was fast and painful, just like the first time, only this round he got a much better sense of his bonded. The horror, fear and anger were all at encountering something that defied him and he couldn't break. Right on the heels of that, which Jazz was sure was more than Vortex meant him to perceive, was the memory of what merging with Prowl had been from Vortex's perspective.

He latched onto that, pulled it in and tucked it far away before focusing his attention onto the dark rotor and clearing his thoughts as much as he could. A harsh jumble of sounds pummeled at him and he winced away from it before it softened and the sounds drew apart, giving him a better view of everything Vortex was pushing over to him.

He felt himself--Vortex--spin around and back and he was staring into a pale blue spark while his spike throbbed. Jazz fought the memory, tried to reach out to touch Prowl's spark--he could feel the terror rising off of the Praxian's frame and the way it made the memory thick with lust made him shudder--he wanted so desperately to just hold and caress the light and draw it into himself and protect it there.

But the lust made everything foggy, and Jazz heard Vortex's voice and his deep groan as he tore into Prowl's valve and sank all the way in. It spasmed around his spike, hot and tight and rippling, and sharp waves of terror and agony rolled over him and Jazz didn't want this, didn't want to feel Prowl's pain like this, and Vortex bucked his hips and all it did was intensify.

Then Prowl's spark--beautiful, beloved, perfect--was right under his and another burst of fear came out from underneath them and he was this close to overloading just from that alone, because Vortex loved the way a terrified, shrinking spark felt--

Everything froze. Something was wrong, this wasn't how spark rape was supposed to feel. His victim was no longer afraid or struggling and when he tried to back up and found he couldn't, confusion quickly blossomed into fear. Jazz could feel Vortex trying to place the emotion, but he knew exactly what it was from the very first hint of it.

~You've come into my realm,~ a voice hissed, one that Vortex had no memory of, but Jazz knew it immediately. The presence that came with it was terrifying the rotor, even if he still hadn't realized it. The voice continued, described Vortex's plan in cold, calm detail, and where Vortex had been horrified in the memory, Jazz was captivated.

Vortex was trying everything he could think of to escape, from clawing at Prowl's frame to trying to tug away from the Praxian's grip, and he was quickly tumbling into panic, spitting back insults that had no effect on the predatory awareness that was circling, never stopping.

~No, Vortex. You will bear mine. You were created far below me. You will always be below me. You can break my frame, send my spark back to Primus, but you can not erase the truth that is here.~

In the memory, everything had turned into a blinding panic as pale light surrounded him and Vortex was screaming, clawing, fighting against this abomination, and Jazz--

Jazz was awestruck by the commanding presence, even as he realized, just as Vortex did, that it could shred him in moments if it chose to. His own spark throbbed to submit to it, to offer everything he was, bared and vulnerable and completely for the taking.

Vortex was too lost in the terror of his memory to notice, and in the next moment, everything spun and tilted in a dizzying lurch and Jazz was on his back again, his frame shuddering with the spark energy. Vortex was above him, still merged, panting and trembling. Suddenly the rotor focused on something else, on reclaiming a tiny bit of his self-worth and confidence by taking, overwhelming and reveling in Jazz's absolute submission.

Jazz couldn't push away, trapped as soon as Vortex focused in on him and the older spark surged forward, wrapping around Jazz's completely. "No!" Jazz sobbed, because the submission hadn't been for him, had never been for this monster, but he could only defy for a moment before he was pushed aside and a creature hungry for Vortex and everything the rotor gave surged up. "No," Jazz whispered. "No, no..." And his control was gone and his frame arched up as he cried out and shuddered in bliss.

Distantly, Jazz felt his bonded relax, soothed by the momentary resistance that ended in such complete submission. He gathered himself, as much as he could, and stayed docile and quiet, accepting the forceful merge until it exploded into a shattering overload and everything faded offline.

* * *

Jazz had booted to an empty room and the scent of spilled energon and transfluid heavy in the air, and when he'd sat up and looked around... 

It was all over the walls and floor and pieces of Prowl's frame were scattered everywhere, but Prowl himself was gone. Jazz fought the dizzy, sick feeling rising in his tanks and checked the camera feeds, rewinding until he saw Flatline coming in to collect a broken frame that could hardly be considered alive but for the bright pulsing of its spark. He didn't watch more than that. 

Rage was rolling over the bond, a poor mask for the insult and terror that lingered beneath it, and as Jazz curled back up on the bed and hugged himself, he realized that Vortex intended this to be Prowl's last repair. When he was done, the rotor was going to kill him. He was going to make it brutal, and he was going to make Jazz watch. 

Jazz didn't think he would survive here without Prowl, didn't think he could keep going, not after having had him once and feeling his spark sing with a joy he hadn't felt in too long. He needed to think quickly, for both of them. He wasn't on Vortex's good side, either. 

Jazz shuddered. He had one option, and if he didn't get the chance to ask Prowl, he would take it. But if at all possible, he was going to make sure his love would prefer this to death. So he lay very still, and waited. 

* * *

When the door opened and steps came in, along with the sound of something being dragged, Jazz didn't move or look but to check the camera feeds and watch as Prowl was shoved roughly back into his forced kneel. The aides left, and Jazz held perfectly motionless on the berth, counting half a klik, then quickly swapped that half klik out on the live feed and sat up, quickly checking the loop for inconsistencies. Vortex had been out in the gardens, and even now, he was turning to come back. He had ten kliks, maybe less. 

He scrambled off the berth and over to Prowl, cable already out and pushing against the thin chest plating while shaking fingers grabbed Prowl's helm and pulled him into a desperate kiss. The dataport slid open even before Prowl recognized the kiss enough to return it. The moment, however, brought a rolling tidal wave of _love-want-pleasure-happy-relief_ to Prowl's field.

Jazz moaned softly and clung to Prowl as he slipped into the dataport, not waiting at all to push over his absolute certainty at what was about to happen. ~Vortex is coming here to kill you.~

~Not surprised,~ Prowl responded, his awareness caressing Jazz soothingly. ~Do you have a plan?~

Jazz pressed into the touch, letting it calm him from the frantic state he'd been in. His spark settled and he managed to nod before resting their helms together, optics dim. ~There's something he's wanted for a while, I think...I think if I offer it, he will let you live. But I want your permission.~

~To ask to hurt me, punish me, tear me down as savagely as he has.~ Prowl said it for him. ~Yes. Whatever it takes to live, Jazz. We must endure until we can escape.~

~Okay,~ Jazz whispered, and cycled his vents several times, leaning heavily on the calming strength Prowl was offering him. ~Okay, okay... You have to understand, it's going to be worse than him. He's a sadist, but eventually he's predictable in what he does. I can think of ways to hurt you he'd never dream of, and he's going to expect that.~

~I know, Jazz,~ he wrapped the younger mech in a mental blanket of warmth and understanding. ~You will not do anything I have not thought of. I am ready.~

Jazz glanced at the estate cameras. Six more kliks. ~If I can't convince him...~

~You will. You are smarter than he is. Your processor is quicker. You have a reason to succeed,~ Prowl insisted, fully believing his words. ~You are strong. We will survive this.~

Jazz shivered as the confidence and belief surrounded him and pulled them close, using them to shoulder up his resolve. ~He showed me...what happened,~ he said, switching to something that wasn't worrying if these were his last kliks with Prowl. ~What you did to him. Your spark.~

~I am very strong. I have merged before. I know how to use that space,~ Prowl rumbled with distinct enjoyment of those memories. ~He has the stronger frame. I have the stronger will.~

Jazz hummed and ran his hands over Prowl's frame as pride bloomed into his field and washed over the hardline. Tucked into the data stream was Jazz's memory of feeling the raw strength of that spark and how much he craved to offer himself to it. ~My spark will be yours,~ he vowed. Another glance at the cameras showed Vortex closer than he wanted. Two more kliks until he had to move. 

~I look forward to that orn, my love,~ Prowl tipped his face up to kiss Jazz softly. ~My spark is already yours. It only awaits being claimed.~

~Mine,~ Jazz whispered with awe, shivering and leaning into the touch. He stayed there as long as he dared, touching every surface he could reach on Prowl's frame, waiting until the last nanoklik to brush out a loving, regretful thought before unplugging and moving back onto the berth. He pulled up the loop and shifted until he was in the exact same position, brought the live feed back online, and heard the door open. 

"I am going to mangle that monstrosity until it begs to extinguish," Vortex rumbled darkly, his optics on Jazz even as he headed towards Prowl.

Jazz sat up and jumped off the berth, quickly putting himself between the two mecha, making a perfect show of cringing away from the enraged rotor and allowing very real fear to bloom into his field and rush over the bond. "Wait," he begged.

"Why?" Vortex growled, only held back by the fact that this was his bonded, but just barely. "You did not exactly hide how you feel for him, it was clear enough, so what possible reason could you have for me to allow him to live?"

Jazz winced and held both hands up. "You're right, it's true," he said, voice shaking as he did everything he could with his body and field to force the display of _helplessness_ that he knew his bonded enjoyed so much. "I did feel for him, I still do, that's why you have to let him live, because now I understand what he did to us, and if dies now, I will love him forever, but if he lives..." He trailed off, glancing fearfully up at the rotor to watch for the reaction.

"Exactly what is going to break your love of him if I haven't already?" Vortex glowered at him, angry but offered something he wanted for his patience.

Jazz slowly lowered his hands but kept cringing away as much as he could. "He stole something from you, from both of us. You paid for me and didn't get what you were promised, and I could have been happy with you if it weren't for _him._ " He spat out the last word, and began to straighten. "I felt it when I was with him, how much I wanted him, how much it hurts to be apart from him, and now I see that it should have been you, only you. If he hadn't _encouraged_ me I never would have known otherwise." He stood completely upright now, determined and focused. "Let me _hurt_ him," he said, and didn't hide how much he didn't want what he was asking for. "Let me hurt him until I hate him and let _me_ take his spark."

The rush of arousal and lust and _want_ coming over the bond nearly made Jazz reel. Prowl had been right and so had Jazz. Vortex wanted this so much he wasn't even going to think on it.

"Very well," the rotor purred. "I've reactivated the medical alert in him." He stepped back and studied his bonded. "Here, or in the playroom?"

"Today, in here," Jazz said, turning to look at Prowl. "Here where you've claimed me, where you took my seals, where I should have been yours, frame and spark." He turned back, met Vortex's gaze, and quickly dropped his own. "Forgive me," he whispered, head bowed.

"I will, when he has extinguished along with all affection you feel for him," Vortex purred deeply, his excitement all but claiming his processors as he reached out to stroke Jazz's cheek with his thumb. "He has to pay for his wrongs, wipe them clean with his energon at your hand." Almost reluctantly Vortex stepped back and sat on the berth. "What tools do you wish?"

Jazz took a shuddering intake as he looked at Prowl and went through the mental list of everything he had become skilled at. Some were more intimate than others, and for now, those were the tools he needed to use. "My knife," he murmured, taking extra care to push over how much it was going to hurt to do this. "Something for his valve, something that will shred, if you have it?" Jazz glanced over his shoulder at Vortex, who nodded once. "A whip, one that will _cut._ And if Flatline is available..." Jazz shuddered. "Something that will overload him from the pain."

The throbbing approval-arousal-pleasure from Vortex was dizzying and made the construct purr and squirm with pleasure.

"Flatline will be here to administer the shot shortly," Vortex grinned at the scene about to unfold. "Which tool first?"

"My knife," Jazz said, looking Prowl up and down. "Then I'll strip his armor, and destroy his valve." He looked to Vortex, and relaxed with a soft smile. "Thank you," he said, and returned to the rotor on the berth while waiting for the medic to arrive, giving the construct the freedom to touch his bonded in a kiss. "Thank you for giving me a second chance," he murmured when he drew back. "I will not waste it."

"I am sure you will not," Vortex rumbled and allowed his spike to slide free. "Now pleasure me while we wait for Flatline, unless you would prefer to hurt that thing before it will cause him shameful pleasure."

"Want your spike," Jazz breathed, completely truthful as he slid to his knees in front of his bonded and lifted his hands to the offered spike, rubbing one thumb across the sharp barbs beneath the tip and drawing energon on them. He wrapped his other hand around the middle and brought his mouth to it, swiping his glossa over one of the razor-thin edges. 

Vortex moaned and leaned back, bracing on his hands as he looked at the perfect mech kneeling between his legs. Yes, Jazz had betrayed him, and yet Jazz was good enough to be worth forgiving if he could actually do what he proposed. Even if it failed in the end, these would be some of the most erotic videos Vortex would ever boast in his collection.

He might even have a spike installed in Jazz for the final kill, to watch his bonded overload into the guttering spark of the creature that had dared try to take him.

That thought made Vortex's lust surge and he moaned deeply. It was only when Flatline entered that he focused enough to pull Jazz away from his spike and look at the oozing lips. He glanced up at Flatline. "Inject that special mix that makes him overload." Then he looked down at Jazz and pulled the mech up and against him to lick the lips clean. "Give me a good show and I will reward you."

"I look forward to it," Jazz breathed, pressing flush to the rotor. He kissed him deeply, only pulling away when he heard Flatline's soft chuckle behind him and looked over his shoulder to see the medic smiling as he subspaced his syringe and vial. 

"I see someone is in for a very enjoyable evening," the medic said, before bowing to his Lords and leaving. 

"Very enjoyable indeed," Jazz purred back to Vortex once the door had locked. "The pleasure I take from you has never been untrue." He took one last kiss and brushed his fingers up Vortex's spike before standing to retrieve his knife.

In the center of the room Prowl was still kneeling, trembling as the chemicals took effect. His optics were locked on Jazz, pale and wide, fear evident in every line of his frame and features.

It broke Jazz's spark to see that look trained on him and his hand, clenched around the knife, shook. He could have hidden the entire thing from Vortex, but he allowed the movement and allowed the emotion to move over the bond, not bothering to deceive in this moment. The best lies were based in truth. Over time, he would slowly decrease what he was sending when he tortured Prowl. 

Prowl was still resting on his pedestal, wrists bound together and lashed to his ankles, legs strapped down to keep him from falling. Jazz stood right in front of him and reached a hand out between his legs to touch the spike cover. "Open up," he murmured. "Make this easier for both of us."

Prowl could only whine, a pitiful sound as he shook his helm. Despite the show for Vortex, Jazz was close enough to feel Prowl's steady field, the lack of fear and the strength of conviction the mech held for what was about to happen to him, and why.

Jazz's optics narrowed slightly as he fell alongside the Praxian into the act. "You did this to me," he said, and his voice easily sounded as broken as he felt. "You encouraged me and praised me and made me want you and look what it's done to me!" He brought the knife forward and wedged the tip into the seam, putting light pressure onto it. "It's destroyed me in every way, now _open up!_ "

Prowl hissed in pain that morphed into a low moan of confused pleasure. He shook his helm again, sharply, and tried to growl. All the while his field was encouraging.

"Slag you," Jazz hissed, and drove the knife in, wrenching up, easily bending the thin plating far enough away to get his fingers in under it and rip away while Prowl howled in pain-pleasure, shuddering at the sharp rush of sensations. Jazz crumpled the cheap plating in his hand before throwing it aside and driving the knife against the closed housing. "Want to rethink your next move?"

Prowl's panting wasn't faked. Neither was the trembling. But what looked like fear and pain from the other side of the room was full of understanding-support-approval through his field for the mech hurting him. A soft whimper escaped him as he manually extended his spike and locked it there.

"Better," Jazz said, and leaned back, tracing the knife lightly down the simple equipment, not even hard enough to scratch. He shook his head and gave a short laugh. "I dreamed about you every time I recharged when I was a mechling," he said. "Dreamed about taking your spike into me, about driving into you, feeling your mouth on every part of me, tasting you..." Across the bond, he could feel ripples of jealousy, and when the tip of the knife reached the base of Prowl's spike, he pushed, easily slicing through. "I never got to feel your mouth on my spike, my bonded took at least that much from you. Took it as his right, as it was always meant to be." He dragged the knife up, drawing a thin line of energon behind as Prowl gasped and shivered at the pain-pleasure mix. "Can't believe what you did to me, turned me against my own purpose, warped everything I should have been."

Despite the physical pain, the words tore at Prowl far deeper than the knife or any physical instrument could. The sob was real, and from his spark, even though he knew Jazz had to say such things, and would say far worse to him before this was over. He focused on projecting what Jazz needed into his field, as well as paying attention to Vortex to ensure the rotor didn't catch any of it. He was ready to shift his field to pure reality at a nanoklik's notice.

Until then, his duty was to endure and ensure that Jazz did.

Jazz felt, and understood, and grieved. Vortex's lust was coming through clearly as he carved vertical grooves all the way around Prowl's spike, making each one deeper than the last and then retracing every single one until Prowl was right on the brink of overload and sobbing in pain before abandoning the knife. He wrapped one hand around the bleeding length and grabbed Prowl's helm with the other, pulling him into a biting, tearing kiss while stroking with firm, harsh jerks of his wrist. 

Against him, under his touch, Prowl's hips thrust into the touch and pulled away in equal measure. He sobbed into the kiss, wanting it as he felt his frame overload at his lover's touch and the pain it inflicted. It sent painful, wracking spasms through his abused frame and made him keen in very real, spark-deep agony before the charge spent itself out with a final shudder. 

Jazz pulled away, lips covered with Prowl's energon, slipping away into the very real enjoyment he had learned to take out of torture. Prowl's acceptance and support was helping him ease away to where he could lose himself in the energon and pain, but more than that, feeling Vortex's enjoyment triggered the construct to do whatever it could to make his bonded happy. 

The knife was subspaced for later, and Jazz heard Vortex rise and press up behind him, spike sliding along his back as the whip was slipped into his hand. 

Jazz looked into fear and pain-dulled optics. "I always wanted to caress you," he purred, and draped the whip over Prowl's shoulder, pulling it gently over his back while pushing flush against him, trapping the bleeding spike between their hips and giving a short thrust, grinding it between their frames. Prowl cried out and jerked and Vortex rumbled with approval before drawing away. Jazz leaned in to press his mouth to Prowl's audial. "I guess I get my chance," he whispered, then stepped away and _struck_ , wrapping the whip around Prowl's neck with expert precision and yanking it away, tearing into plating. 

Prowl screamed, and _Jazz_ was lost. 

* * *

Jazz stared down at the broken, quivering frame on the floor. There was almost no span of Prowl's body that was not covered in energon and they'd had to stop to refuel him every few overloads so he wouldn't bleed out completely. He was whipped almost completely to protoform, barely cognizant, valve destroyed and still clenching the cruel bladed spike that Jazz had rammed in again and again. Jazz was splattered with energon, vents heaving and frame rigid with tension as he examined his work. 

"That was wonderful," came Vortex's low purr from behind him. 

"I'm not finished," Jazz growled, and felt the flicker of surprise from his bonded, and the silent permission to continue. 

Jazz knelt and grabbed Prowl's spike again--he'd stroked the Praxian to pain-overload with this more times than he wanted to think about--and held it steady while he rammed his knife right through the base, piercing through the other side. Despite how broken he was, it wrenched another scream and spasm of agony-pleasure from Prowl. Jazz hissed and grabbed either end of the weapon and twisted hard, breaking the spike off completely.

It was all he could do not to overload from the intensity of the pleasure-desire-approval-lust crashing across the bond as he stood with Prowl's ruined spike in hand and the shattered frame quivering at his pedes. "You can look forward to that until I've cut away everything I ever felt for you," he snarled, then turned towards Vortex.

"That was amazing," Vortex's voice was rough with lust as he grabbed his bonded and pushed him to the floor, driving his spike into Jazz's valve with an eagerness he'd never expressed so intensely. The bond was alive with desire, approval and lust as he pounded into the white frame, reveling in the pleasured howls from the small mech under him until they were both slumped unconscious.

They were still laying there, Vortex on top of Jazz, when Flatline was summoned by the medical sensor to keep Prowl's spark from guttering.


	10. The Final Straw

Jazz stood in front of the door to his chambers with a small cable from his wrist hooked up to the lock that prevented him from leaving. He watched his chronometer ticking by while he shifted and rewrote the permissions programming, until he heard a soft click indicating the mag lock's release. He reset the lock, unplugged from it, and crossed back into the berthroom and over to Prowl. 

The Praxian had his dataport exposed before Jazz even reached him and he plugged in, leaning into a kiss as he did. ~Less than three kliks,~ he reported. ~I think I can get it under one with enough practice.~

~Excellent,~ Prowl's relief was far stronger than his praise. The entirely too regular sessions of Jazz torturing him for Vortex's amusement were even more draining on him than either had anticipated, but he was still holding himself together thanks to these times when Vortex was not in the suite. ~What of blocking the bond?~ That was the last needed step. With the extra energon Jazz was able to slip him helping his processor speed, preparations were going much faster than he'd initially calculated, and they could be out in less than a vorn. 

~Still not quite,~ Jazz sighed. ~It would be easier if he would merge with me, ever.~ What he had been unable to figure out in more than a vorn of practice had become completely clear in a single moment during the only merge they had ever had apart from their bonding. ~Soon,~ he promised quickly. ~It's not like I'm short on overloads to practice with.~

~Soon as you can block him,~ Prowl's words were as much a promise as a plea. He needed to escape at least as badly as Jazz. Probably far more than Jazz did. Eventually Jazz's programming would convince him to accept his function as Vortex's bonded. Prowl only had the hope of escape with Jazz to hold onto. He leaned into the contact, drawing strength from the loving touch and the knowledge that the plan was almost ready to move to the next phase.

Jazz wrapped his arms tightly around Prowl and rested there silently, trying to pulse over as much support as he had to offer. Hurting Prowl had been hard, but as more time went on, it was becoming less so, and that was frightening him. Learning and reprogramming himself to enjoy pain had been bad enough, but to enjoy _Prowl's_... They needed to get out, before he lost himself and destroyed them both. 

Activity over the bond caught his attention, a strong ripple of _pleasure_ that was tinted differently than what he usually caught from Vortex when he was away at one of his gatherings. Curious, Jazz pushed back with a question, and the rumble of desire and intention--for _him_ \--came at the same time as unexpected motion in one of the hall cameras. Vortex was entering the estate, less than a joor after he'd left.

~Slag!~ Jazz hissed while he watched the rotor approaching. ~He was supposed to be at Brawl's all orn!~ He lifted his hand up to the hardline and held there, pulling back to look at Prowl. ~Will you be all right?~

~Yes.~ Prowl assured him as he settled into his default position. It didn't matter if it was truth or not. They could not be caught like this.

Jazz growled softly. ~I'll try to distract him with something else,~ he promised, unplugged, and moved back over to his kneel on the berth, disabling the loop, and then lifted his arms over his head, using the remaining kliks to make a show of stretching out after holding still for so long before reclining back on the berth in time for Vortex to enter.

"Just what I had in mind," Vortex rumbled as he zeroed in on Jazz immediately, his strides taking him to the berth where he all but pounced on his bonded.

Jazz gave a soft, surprised yelp as he was pinned back and looked up at his bonded. He'd been expecting to have to seduce Vortex into berth, convince him that a series of overloads was going to be more interesting than watching Prowl be tortured, but the rotor seemed to have come to that conclusion on his own already. "Bonded," he trilled, letting his pleased surprise bloom out. "I was not expecting you so soon."

"Yes, I got a little mod just for you," Vortex rumbled, claiming a kiss as his spike cover slid back. "It's time we had a creation to occupy your down time with so you aren't so bored."

Jazz's warm, pleasured mood, both at his bonded's amorous intent and relief that Prowl seemed to be spared for the moment, vanished instantly and he pulled out of the kiss, staring at the rotor. "Creation," he repeated, stunned. "Now?"

"It has been over a vorn. It is past time you carried my heir so the nobility accepts this as a real bonding," Vortex explained, annoyed he had to do more than pay, but not so much he cared that much about it. His spike slid out, smooth and relatively simple. "That means I can't hurt you until it's separated and you've regained your shape."

Jazz nodded silently while three very strong sets of coding all clamored for control. The creator-carrier protocols wanted a creation more than anything, the construct ached to have this out of the way so he could return to pleasing his bonded in his favorite ways as soon as possible, and _Jazz_ was disgusted but knew better than to show it or resist, all of which led to him giving a soft trill of agreement and spreading his legs apart, valve bared. 

"Spark," Vortex ordered as he pressed in, feeling both their dissatisfaction with the smooth slide and lack of pain-stretch or the backward facing hooks on the underside or the hard edged plates on top.

Now _there_ was something useful, Jazz realized as he split his chest and spiraled open the inner chamber. He sank back, watching silently behind the cover of the construct, which purred shamelessly and cycled its valve around the new spike, determined to please. Jazz ignored that and focused on watching Vortex's chest, knowing he might never get another chance to observe this. Last time he'd been unprepared for the merge, and only barely caught what he'd needed to know in order to block the bond. This time he was ready and waiting, silent and attentive.

Vortex was focused, moving more slowly than normal as he lowered their chests together. It wasn't he kind of interface either were used to, but Vortex wanted a newspark with as few merges as possible, and that meant he had to take his time, build the charge up and slowly merge their sparks. Like it or not, he accepted the requirement just as he'd accepted the restriction in how he touched his bonded. Very little of _him_ got through the bond, beyond the surface thoughts.

That was just fine with Jazz, who was keeping himself equally limited in what he allowed to be visible. He reached up and pulled Vortex down into another kiss, softer than any they had exchanged before. ~I am honored to bear my Lord's creation,~ he whispered, very slowly starting to move his hips to push and pull over the spike which, while smooth, was large enough to stretch him perfectly.

It was strange, being ready for the merge enough to watch it, and to watch Vortex, like this. It was so very different than the last two times. Slow rather than fast. Focused on Jazz's pleasure more than Vortex's. Vortex's focus on making a newspark to orbit Jazz's.

~Focus on wanting the newspark,~ Vortex instructed with a growl that was more out of frustration than directed at Jazz. The rotor didn't enjoy this. It was a duty.

Jazz could sense all of that and tried to make the process as easy for Vortex as he could, leaning heavily on his second creation coding. He shivered with the first ripples of building charge, engines purring happily, and pulsed his very real desire for a newspark over the bond. ~Want it more than anything,~ he promised, humming with anticipation.

~Good,~ Vortex's reply was more automatic that thought out, the big rotor's charge building as their merge, the first relatively equal one, reached the final stage with Vortex's energy pulsing into Jazz's spark, almost demanding the small mech overload first. It was something both their coding said was desirable, so Jazz willingly followed and let go, tumbling over into the cascade of spark energy that filled his chamber and rushed out into the rest of his frame, making him cry out and arch his back, bringing his chest flush with Vortex's.

He only distantly heard Vortex's bellow, but he _felt_ the huge rush of spark energy into his spark, even felt the swirl of it trying to form a new ball as Vortex's overload faded and the rotor pulled away before collapsing next to Jazz.

* * *

Jazz stared at the ceiling, hand hovering over his chest and the small, tingling warmth he could feel there. Five merges after the first attempt, when Vortex's spark energy flooded into him, he'd felt it cling and take hold, mingling with his own to form a tiny presence that fell into orbit around his spark. Vortex had been only too happy to hide his spark away and focus on spilling into Jazz, over and over, until they were both too exhausted to continue. 

He turned his head to look at Prowl, then looked back up and offlined his optics, faking a recharge to set as the cover loop before sliding off the berth. He hesitated, hand going up over his spark as new coding initiated, heightening his awareness of his surroundings, seeking out and highlighting possible sources of danger. He shook them away and went to Prowl, hesitating before he clicked his jack in. 

Connection opened between them, firewalls dropped, and Jazz looked into Prowl's optics, silent, words failing him.

~It worked?~ Prowl asked, his tone a gentle mixture of regret and relief. Neither wanted Vortex to become frustrated enough with the effort to fully anger.

Jazz nodded, helm against Prowl's, shuddering. ~I don't...I don't want it,~ he said, then winced as his carrier-coding flared angrily at the thought. ~I don't want it to be _Vortex's_.~

~It is, and we will raise it as _our_ own,~ Prowl said firmly. ~No one but you and I need know it is not of my spark. It will be of my frame if we escape soon enough.~ He paused, something occurring to him a bit late. ~Unless you wish me to terminate it once we are free.~

~No!~ Jazz snarled, his fingers flexing in from what had been a gentle touch on Prowl's neck to a threatening grip while a growl rose up in his engine. The Praxian remained completely submissive and nonreactive to the touch, calm even over the hardline. 

~Then we will raise it as our own.~ Prowl said calmly. ~It will be our sparkling.~

The growl quieted, then silenced, and the tension faded out of Jazz's frame. ~Yes,~ he agreed, then sighed. ~Does this change anything?~

~Yes. Not in any way that will change the timing. We still must escape as soon as possible.~ Prowl said firmly. ~I have managed credits far tighter than this will be.~

~All right.~ Jazz brightened. ~I got more than enough from him to block the bond. Give me a few overloads to practice.~

Prowl shivered, a moan escaping him that was pure anticipatory relief. For a moment he couldn't hold back how desperate he had been for so long to hear those words. How badly he _needed_ to know it was almost over.

~I will finalize the preparations for our escape then,~ Prowl said as he settled himself. ~The estate will be in chaos when we are ready to move.~

~Can't wait,~ Jazz breathed, pressing as close to Prowl as he could and basking in the simple knowledge that things were falling into place. ~What kind of chaos, can you tell me?~

Prowl actually chuckled. ~Seneschal systems are a first cousin to gestalt combiner systems. They allow me to fully integrate with an estate, control every system from lighting to locks to communications to inventory to finances. He had my comms removed, but Flatline didn't know what a seneschal system was when he was looking at it and left it completely intact.~

Jazz purred. ~You know I always thought you were incredibly attractive when you were working. You have an amazing processor.~

~It has always been my greatest asset,~ Prowl nuzzled him affectionately. ~We are a very strong working pair.~

~We'll get out, we'll make it,~ Jazz said. He nuzzled back, shivering in anticipation. ~How much more time?~

~As soon as you are sure you can block he when he's trying to find you,~ Prowl said firmly. ~No sooner.~

~Soon, I promise, so soon,~ Jazz said. ~And then I'll have you whenever I want.~

* * *

Jazz didn't even wait a full klik after watching Vortex leave through the front estate doors before scrambling up from his feigned recharge and going to Prowl, who was just back from another round of repairs. Vortex seemed to like nothing better than to watch Jazz tearing the Praxian apart before taking Jazz as many times as he frame could stand. He hadn't even stopped when Flatline came in to collect the energon-covered heap that Jazz had reduced Prowl to this time. 

So even while he plugged in quickly, Jazz held back and waited without pushing for Prowl to accept his presence. The repeated torturing from Jazz was wearing him down faster than anything Vortex had ever done, yet the hardline was still something safe between them. Vortex never permitted such intimate, unmonitorable contact during a session, and Vortex was still a little bit afraid of being that close to Prowl despite that hardline had not been turned on him.

~He's gone?~ Prowl's query was a weary one, his entire frame still aching from repairs that were getting cheaper and less thorough as the metacycles and rebuilds went on.

~For a while,~ Jazz promised. ~Nothing got through when he overloaded, I think...as soon as you're ready, we can run.~

~A test first?~ Prowl doubted the wisdom of his thought, but it wouldn't go away. ~Better to be sure he can't pick up our pleasure now.~

Jazz's optics widened. ~You're still recovering. And what if he does? I haven't let anything through yet.~

~The price for me taking you is less than for escaping if we are caught,~ Prowl pointed out. ~I ... I need to know we can be together once we escape.~

~The price for you taking me would be your spark,~ Jazz hissed, but there was no disagreement with Prowl behind the words, and Prowl could already feel the acceptance of his proposal coming through the hardline. ~If I slip...~

~You will not,~ Prowl assured him, tipping his helm up for a kiss. ~You can not. Please. I need to know. If it costs me my spark, I can accept that.~

Jazz nodded. ~Okay,~ he whispered, then glanced away, and back again. ~...Now?~ he asked, almost shy.

~Is he well away?~ Prowl only barely covered the _yes_ with a more important question.

Jazz carefully opened the bond, enough to get a sense of it but not to send anything back through. ~He took off as soon as he was outside and he's still going,~ he said. ~He plans to be gone for a while.~

Prowl nodded. ~Energon, then let me touch you, please.~ he nearly moaned at the prospect of this first truly shared pleasure, unclouded by the knowledge of intense pain to come, in more than a vorn.

Jazz shivered at the intensity of everything that was coming off of Prowl and kissed him deeply before unplugging to retrieve the cube that his systems could now handle. Instead of helping him to drink, he set it aside and reached around behind to trigger the restraints to release, then held the cube out for him to take before reconnecting the hardline. 

~I'm only worried about keeping everything out of the bond when I overload,~ Jazz said as Prowl drank.

~I know. This is the only way to be sure. If Vortex feels anything, he will check the cameras. If he feels it and sees the loop of you being still, he will not keep it quiet over the bond. We will have a little bit of time to run before he returns.~ Prowl leaned into the contact as he drank as quickly as he dared, not mentioning that if they ran now, before he could carefully maneuver the estate guard away, their chances would be almost nothing. ~If we recover and you feel nothing from him when you look, we can escape when it is most optimal.~

Jazz nodded and waited silently while Prowl finished the cube, running his hands up and down the Praxian's frame the entire time. ~Never would have imagined this,~ he whispered regretfully as Prowl set the cube aside and focused on him. He lifted his hands up to Prowl's face and touched the scarred features.

~Neither did I, even when the guards grabbed me,~ Prowl murmured in reply, tipping his face up to kiss his lover as he forced uncooperative joints to move, caressing Jazz's much simpler frame as they stood without breaking the kiss. ~Soon, love. Soon we will be free of this.~

Jazz moaned at the thought as he slowly backed up, bringing Prowl with him until the backs of his legs hit the berth. ~Tell me what you want,~ he said, deepening the kiss and curling his fingers around Prowl's neck. ~I've done so much to hurt you, tell me what you want and I'll do it.~

Prowl shuddered at the offer and gently pressed Jazz back, guiding him down to the berth and climbing on it afterwards. His aching frame and stiff joints were no longer in his awareness. Only the promise of pleasure and his beloved's frame against his mattered right now. ~I want to hear my designation. Moaned, screamed, whispered. I want what you never dared to before.~

Jazz shivered as he settled back and looked up at his lover. "Prowl," he whispered, voice full of reverence and awe before he pulled Prowl back into a kiss. ~I can do that,~ he said. ~You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that.~

~Not as long as I've wished to hear it,~ Prowl promised. His lips caressed Jazz's jawline, then along his throat. While one hand helped support him, the other caressed Jazz's frame, fingers seeking every armor gap in the slower buildup that he hadn't dared to before. It wouldn't be the slow, tender interface he wished them to share yet, but it would be much closer.

Jazz hummed and quivered at the touch, his spark pulsing with a hopeful joy he hadn't been sure he would ever feel again. "Only because I didn't know enough to know it was what I wanted," he teased, then gasped as Prowl slid over a sensitive wire. "You had a head start...ah--Prowl," he moaned as the touches didn't stop, gentle and caring in a way Vortex had never been.

~I love your voice, so full of pleasure,~ Prowl moaned, his spike sliding free between them of its own accord while his hands continued to explore. ~Untainted by pain or fear. This is what you should have always had. What you deserved. Gentle pleasure, encouragement, a bright future where sparklings are a joy, not a fear. I look forward to the separation of this creation, love. It is mine. My creation with you.~

Jazz squirmed as his frame eagerly responded and heated to Prowl's touch. "Yours," he said, voice full of promise. "Just like me, always yours, forever yours." He couldn't stop the soft trill of pleasure from escaping his vocalizer--didn't even try--and pushed his hips up, a response that had been long automatic to the sound of a spike pressurizing.

Despite his best efforts, Prowl couldn't resist the request. He shifted a bit and slid a hand between Jazz's legs to caress the valve platelets, checking to see how slick he was.

Jazz whined and pushed into the touch, feeling the fingers slide over the lubricated surfaces, valve cycling eagerly and with some impatience just from that brief contact alone. "Prowl," he begged.

~Will never hurt you,~ Prowl promised and used his fingers' location to guide his spike, simple and smooth as it was, into the slick opening and the tight heat beyond. His vocalizer spit out static along with the moan as he seated himself and held there for a moment to enjoy the sensation.

" _Prowl_ ," Jazz gasped, hands moving to settle one on his lover's waist and the other around the back of his neck, then a soft laugh shook him as he looked into the unchanged ice blue optics. "Finally," he whispered, quivering with joy, and when Prowl shifted over him, he groaned. His valve had tightened around the basic spike, trying to heighten the pleasure for both of them.

~Yes,~ Prowl's sigh across the hardline was blissful, the physical pleasure almost secondary as he rolled his hips into every gently thrust. His frame trembled, so unused to pleasure it almost didn't know what to do with it, but old protocols queued up rapidly. ~Wanted this for so long.~ He moaned, pressing his face against Jazz's neck as their frames undulated together, both pulling the other as tightly as possible in a bit to capture as much pleasure as possible and draw this out as long as they could.

"Soon we can have this whenever we want," Jazz managed, already shaking and close to overload just from the way their fields were playing together, holding Prowl close as he rolled back against him. "I plan to--aah, _Prowl_ \--to have you as often as I can." He groaned deeply at a quick thrust. "Like I should have from the start."

~Love you, Jazz,~ even Prowl's hardline words were laced with static as he moaned, his thrusts picking up as he dug a knee into the berth for more leverage. ~Overload for me, please. So close. Want to feel you first.~

" _Prowl,_ " Jazz sobbed, the words shaking him deeper than any touch ever had. He could feel his spark straining out in his chest, desperate to merge with the one above it, and just barely held it back, focusing on taking Prowl's helm in trembling fingers and turning him to press their mouths together in something that could barely be called a kiss, for as much as they were both shaking. "Love you, I love you, Prowl, always-- _Prowl_ ," he gasped, and let go of what little amount of control he still had, and whined sharply as his hips bucked up and he cried out with each thrust. The charge ratcheted up quickly with each moment until Jazz couldn't stand it and let go, tumbling over into blissful overload, screaming out his lover's designation.

Despite it all, he still felt Prowl's roar, reveled in the charge that crackled between their frames and into his valve. It was so different than with Vortex, this overload without a rush of transfluid. Almost more pure that it was different, that Prowl wanted him to go first.

None of that was conscious thought. All Jazz was aware of was the pleasure, the sense of longing fulfilled, and as he registered more of his frame and the world around it, the welcome heat of Prowl's panting frame over his.

~Ch-check the bond,~ Prowl instructed even before he was fully cognizant. ~Vortex.~

Jazz started and tensed--he'd forgotten entirely--and scrambled to clear his processor and stay perfectly still while he focused on the bond and the mental blocks he'd put up around it. 

Perfectly still and silent. Jazz carefully removed the blocks and listened, sensing only a calm boredom from the other end, and quickly replaced them. He grabbed tightly onto Prowl, pulling him into a desperate kiss. "Nothing!" he said, sobbing with the sheer relief of it. "Nothing, he didn't feel, he doesn't know!"

Prowl's relief rolled across the hardline in waves. ~Then when he leaves for his next gather in ten orns, we will wait for him to be playing and distracted, well into the night, and slip away. With a little luck we will already be getting our new frames before he knows we're gone.~

~Ten orns,~ Jazz sighed, slipping back into the hardline for communication. ~I don't think he'll make me hurt you before then. Never again,~ he swore.

~There is only a 16% probability that he will want a show. The requirement to be gentle with you and keep your stress down does make him behave most of the time,~ Prowl relaxed where he lay, very willing to simply enjoy the warm glow of the overload, the way their frames cooled and the sensations of their joined equipment. ~My repairs will have been fully integrated by then, and my reserves at full. It is our best opportunity.~

~Ten orns, then,~ Jazz said, settling in with Prowl, determined to spend as much time touching him as possible before Vortex returned.

* * *

Jazz scowled with barely concealed impatience as he watched the medic--Partus, he was a specialist in newsparks who was highly sought after among the wealthy for his skill--looking at his medical scanner. 

"Something is _wrong_ ," he said, for the third time. Something had changed, he could feel it, and Partus had only calmly assured him that he was carrying for the first time and it was normal to be overly concerned about different developmental stages as they occurred. But something was _wrong_. This wasn't a new developmental stage, this was a fundamental change in the newspark. He might be a first time carrier and barely a vorn into his adult upgrades, but he could tell that much. 

The medic's optics brightened, then a smile slid across his normally passive features. "It is not something wrong, though you were correct that a change has occurred. Your newspark is two. You are carrying twins."

"Twins," Jazz gasped, hand coming up to rest over his spark. " _How?_ "

"A strong spark and plenty of energy, though beyond that we do not know why or how it happens," Partus said gently, smiling warmly at the young carrier. "It is most unusual for one as young and small as you are."

"Will that be a problem? Will they be okay?" Jazz asked, looking down at his frame and then back at the medic.

"It will strain your systems more than a single newspark. You will need more than double the supplements, additional energon and recharge. Other than that, your regular checkups should be sufficient," Patus reassured him gently. "There are no recorded instances of twins when the carrier was not capable of supporting the gestation. It is more complicated, but no more dangerous."

Jazz nodded, starting to relax for the first time since he'd felt the bizarre fluctuation in his spark chamber. He felt Vortex's field press up against him from behind, and a strong hand wrapped around his waist, claws curling possessively. Jazz leaned into it, grateful to have something to physically support him. "Twins," he said again, repeating it just to try to believe it. "I'm carrying twins." 

"And once again, you have exceeded all my expectations, my bonded," Vortex rumbled. "Not only do you deliver me an heir, but something for my entertainment as well." 

Jazz stiffened, his relaxation gone. "Your entertainment?" 

"Yes," Vortex said, and chuckled. "An heir and a toy, all at once." He waved one clawed hand at the medic, dismissing him, and leaned down to Jazz's height. "Come, now that that is settled, it is time for dinner. I will have the extra supplements prepared immediately." 

Jazz could only nod and rotely follow Vortex out of the room. Only the blocks he already had up on the sparkbond kept the rotor from picking up on his suddenly and rapidly escalating anxiety, and the more he thought about one of his creations being _anything_ that Vortex might consider a toy, the sicker he felt. He'd seen what Vortex did to younglings, the idea of him--

Coding that was designed to do nothing more than protect the newspark--new _sparks_ \--was rapidly rearranging every priority he had, starting with getting as far away from Vortex as quickly as possible, as soon as it was safe. His own safety was only important because the newsparks relied on him. 

They'd made it to the dining hall before Jazz finally thought of a way he might remove himself from the rotor's presence safely. He made it through the first course, and then leaned in close to Vortex. "Bonded?" he murmured softly.

"Mmm?" Vortex focused on him, the sound an indication he could continue.

"Patrus was right about needing more recharge," Jazz said, and laughed a little to cover the nervous tension bleeding into his frame. "I think I'll head up early, so I can be more rested for you when you join me."

"Very well," Vortex waved him off. "Make sure you finish your energon ration and additives."

"I will," Jazz promised, and let his voice dip down. "I want to be well-rested to thank you properly for my newsparks," he said in a purr, and then slipped away as quickly as he could. 

As soon as he was in the hallway, and away from the immediate danger of Vortex sensing anything out of the ordinary, anxiety gave way to fear which gave way to panic in a matter of kliks, long before he had reached his chambers. By the time he was walking through the door, he was shaking so badly that he knew it could be seen on the cameras, and hoped if Vortex was watching, he would mistake it for exhaustion.

He made it to the berth without looking at Prowl, and it took almost three kliks until he was able to hold still long enough to get enough recorded video to look like recharge. As soon as the loop was running, he sat up, hand over his chest as his vents all kicked back to life, halted and stuttering. "Prowl," he gasped, trying to force himself to stand up and walk over, but his coding had locked on the window as a means of escape. He whined, shaking, and managed to stand up, staring at it.

Prowl gave a yip, a high-pitched summons, the best he could with the vocalizer he had, and focused on Jazz. His dataport slid open and he shifted to present it as best he could.

Jazz jumped, startled out of his concentration on the escape route, then made the sound again, torn between the two options. The indecision lasted only a matter of nanokliks before _Prowl_ was finally placed as Safety and Jazz wrenched away from the window. Two steps over and he was kneeling, plugging in immediately, not even waiting long enough to check if Prowl had lowered his firewalls or not before sending over a burst of data, scrambled by his panicking processor while he gripped at Prowl's frame, losing himself more and more with every passing nanoklik, growing increasingly desperate to get _away_.

Prowl reeled at the onslaught, but soon sorted enough out to get the fundamentals.

~Calm.~ Prowl put the full force of his will, and Jazz's lifetime as an authority figure, behind the single glyph.

Jazz's shaking subsided immediately and he stared at Prowl with optics that were slowly regaining their color from the panicked white they had become. ~Calm,~ he repeated, still trembling, still frightened, but willing to listen. 

~They are safe until after they separate,~ Prowl insisted firmly. ~We will escape in plenty of time to keep them safe.~

The panic flared back up immediately and Jazz looked to the window. ~Can't! He'll feel--he'll know, he'll trap--he'll force he'll _hurt!_ ~

~No.~ Prowl used every scrap of authority he could muster. ~I _will_ get you away from him before he thinks to hurt. Jazz. Trust me. We must wait for him to leave the estate.~

Jazz almost sobbed as he grabbed onto Prowl. ~He could change the lock before then! He might not leave! _Now!_ ~ he begged, everything in him screaming at him to _run_.

~You can break any combination he sets it to,~ Prowl countered firmly. ~You know he will leave in eight orns for a minimum of four orns for his next gather. Onslaught is hosting, which means Vortex will be in Kalis. That is still our safest time to escape. You must calm yourself. The sparklings will be protected. They will be safe. I promise you that.~

Jazz shuddered and clung to the words and the promise in them. Prowl was Safety. Prowl Knew. He could Trust Prowl. 

He repeated that mantra in his processor, over and over, until he started to believe it, and slumped against Prowl. ~Soon,~ he begged. ~I don't know how I'll be able to look at him and not see...~

~Soon,~ Prowl promised. ~As soon as it is safe. When Vortex is well away from the estate, we will leave.~

Jazz whined softly. ~He wants to hurt one of my sparklings,~ he whispered. ~He would--he would do that to his _own_ sparkling!~

~But not until _after_ it has separated,~ Prowl said firmly. ~He is not a danger _right now_.~

Carrier-coding flared with irrational fear, and a nanoklik later, it was dominant and rageful, hearing only one thing. ~I'm not staying here until they separate!~ Jazz hissed.

~Jazz,~ Prowl growled at him, physically and through the hardline. ~Do try to keep track of the plan. We are leaving when he visits Onslaught in eight orns.~

Jazz snarled back, immediately defensive against any possible display of aggression that could indicate danger, and then Prowl reached over the hardline and _shook_ him, pressing forward a sense of self strong enough to overwhelm the panicked instinct, and everything snapped back into proper focus and Jazz stilled, immediately recognizing his lover, and ducked his head. ~Eight orns,~ he repeated, optics averted. 

~Our sparklings will be safe,~ Prowl repeated, his tone softening. ~Vortex is not a danger right now.~

Jazz nodded and settled, being still and simply absorbing the steady certainty that was Prowl for as long as he dared. It was with great reluctance that Jazz finally accepted that he really _did_ need to recharge and pulled away from Prowl to go settle on the berth and discontinue the loop. He stayed online long enough to drink the extra energon ration he'd been ordered to before crawling back and shutting down, shivering and hoping Vortex took his time in returning.

He was tired enough he was actually still in recharge when he felt Vortex's mass over him, the touch of the larger mech having finally roused him.

As soon as Jazz realized exactly who it was his processor forced a rapid reboot that left him spinning as he gave an alarmed yelp and tried to get away from the rotor, kicking at the larger frame. He was instantly pinned, a deep growl rumbling dangerously above him as the bond pulsed with anger.

Jazz froze as his coding quickly reassessed the threat and changed tactics, focusing in on Prowl's promise that the newsparks were still safe right now. He repeated the words to himself, and the order to be calm, and felt his spark settle enough to speak. "Bonded," he said softly, forcing his frame to relax and pulsing subservience over the bond and in the intonations of his voice, intensely aware that the rotor could rip him open in moments without even having to shift. 

"Who did you think it was?" Vortex scowled, more interested in who needed to be torn apart. "Who else touched you?"

"No one!" Jazz said, looking up at him. "You startled me...I was afraid for the newsparks, all I could think of was protecting them." He drew one arm slowly out of the pin and reached up to touch Vortex's chest, right over his spark. "I won't let anyone harm your creations," he murmured. He felt the anger smooth into a strange kind of purr.

"You surprise me at every turn," Vortex kissed him. It was still hard and demanding, but softer than most. "My heir will be strong."

"Yes," Jazz purred. He sank back into his processor, calling up the construct that was already leaping to be in its bonded's embrace, eager to please, desperate for the rotor's touch. More desperate than usual, and Jazz used it as a shield to hide his fear behind. "Everything for you, as many sparklings as you desire," the construct promised, spreading itself wide.

Vortex shivered, arousal, approval and desire radiating off him unhindered as he pressed his large but smooth spike inside Jazz with a single thrust. "Yes, my little slut," he moaned, the words laced with approval and want, much like 'love you' would be to a normal mech.

Jazz could only moan in response, too caught up in the thrill that sheathing his bonded offered him. He rocked against it, gasping his pleasure at the stretch. It wasn't enough for either of them and he looked forward to the orn when Vortex could switch back to his true spike and claim and shred him as was his right, and he purred as much up to the rotor, whispering a perfect seduction, drawing him in deeper. 

The shiver he got for his efforts came with a wash of lust-want- _yes_ across the bond that was more than enough to amp his charge up on its own. Vortex's continued deep thrusts made it all the better remembering what it felt like when his bonded was whole. As soon as the sparklings separated, they could enjoy a final act of unity.

"Let me kill him," Jazz whispered, throaty and lost in pleasure. "The orn you have your real spike back, let me kill him with you."

The alarm he felt--Jazz felt, from where he watched--flared out and hit the edge of the space he had retreated to, never crossing into his field, never distracting Vortex from the way his frame was pushing back against him. Vortex wouldn't get his spike back until after the sparklings separated, and they wouldn't be here then. Jazz clung to that, and tried to block the construct out as he shuddered at the words.

The intense bloom of approval, lust and anticipation across the bond heralded Vortex's overload, but the rutting didn't slow down and the construct was happy to play along, detailing as many ideas for how Prowl's final orn could play out as it could until Vortex wore himself out.

As Jazz shoved the ever-more-disturbing construct into its mental box, he assessed a very sore valve, slightly out of alignment hips and his energy meter insisting he fuel before recharging.

He sat up shakily, pushing away from the recharging rotor, and made his way over to the energon dispenser, bitterly thinking that any proper mate would have stayed online long enough to do this for him while he rested. He leaned heavily against the wall while he drank, refilled, and drank again, programming the second cube to have the additional supplements that had been prepared and queued up for this dispenser. 

_The construct._ he sent to Prowl, not knowing what else to say.

 _It is independent._ Prowl's reply was thick with warnings. _Soon. Soon we will be gone._

 _Soon._ Jazz vented heavily, finished the cube, and went to curl back up next to Vortex.


	11. Making a Run for It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorcelling - taking on any form you can scan/have specs for. From [Story of a Lifetime](Story%20of%20a%20lifetime) by [taralynden](http://archiveofourown.org/users/taralynden/pseuds/taralynden%22).

Prowl sent a silent prayer of thanks to Primus that Vortex was as unobservant and uncaring as he was. For metacycles now he'd had enough energon in his systems the majority of the time to think and access his seneschal upgrades. Which meant for metacycles now he, and not Vortex, had been in control of the estate's networked systems. There were now funds and supplies stashed in a thousand locations all over Cybertron, including several larger credit deposits that would fund the repairs and rebuilds required to become invisible to the hunters Vortex would send out. With two newsparks to support, it would be tight until Prowl could devote time to investing and see the returns, but it would be enough.

It had to be.

It had taken a miracle to keep Jazz calm enough to last the eight orns until Vortex's scheduled departure. Several times Prowl had almost failed.

Now would come the difficult part. His plan was about to meet the real world and one very unstable mech that was close to a split personality profile disorder. That construct would have to be removed, and quickly.

For right now though, he had to keep the quivering, stressed out carrier that had just attached itself to him calm until Vortex was well enough away. Jazz was holding his shoulders and pressing their helms together, fingers digging almost painfully into the thin armor. Vortex had roused him early, long before his scheduled departure, taken him long and slow while Jazz--Jazz's construct--keened and praised the rotor, joyfully begging for his transfluid to fill him, to strengthen the newsparks. When it had finally ended, Vortex leaving Jazz to refuel on his own while he prepared to leave, the primary profile had taken control, to noticeably increased tension and pacing that even Vortex had commented on. 

And now all that nervous tension was pummeling him through the hardline. 

~He's off the estate, why are we waiting?~ Jazz pleaded.

~Our chances of success greatly improve when it is dark,~ Prowl explained patiently. ~I can cover a great deal, but I can not hide us once we are outside.~

Jazz squirmed anxiously. He'd heard this before, he knew it by spark, and everything in him still wanted to bolt. ~I'll have to change the loop, every couple joors. Help me remember. I'm not sure...how well I'll focus.~

~I will not let you forget,~ Prowl promised. ~We have not come so far, endured so much, just to get caught by a loop running too long. Unbind me?~

Jazz started. He hadn't even thought to release the bindings, and quickly reached around to do so before pulling an energon cube that he'd tucked away earlier and offering it. ~What can I do?~ he asked. ~Is there anything I can help with?~

~Help me oil and stretch,~ Prowl said as he accepted the cube. ~My articulation points are not well-lubricated.~

Jazz unplugged to go retrieve the oil after helping Prowl stand up, glad to have something productive to do instead of having to simply wait the entire time. He waited until Prowl had finished drinking before stepping in and carefully tipping the bottle over each joint as Prowl indicated them and helping him move to get the oil more worked in. "Stop me if it hurts," he murmured.

Prowl nodded, his field speaking for him as they were no longer hardlined. Small sounds of pleasure, relief and occasionally strain came from him, but never a complaint. He wanted to move. Was grateful to move.

 _Time to change the vid,_ he pinged Jazz about halfway through the oiling, who nodded and helped him back into the restraints, where he sat motionless as Jazz stretched out of the seeming recharge, drew a cube for himself, added the extra supplements, and drank it slowly on the berth. When he was done, he lay back down, and as soon as the loop was playing again with the new position he finished helping Prowl oil the underused joints. 

"Lay down with me?" Jazz asked softly when Prowl indicated he could stop, tugging his hand.

Warmth infused Prowl's field as he followed, more than happy to lie down and hold his love while they waited out the nerve-wracking joors until it was optimal to escape. He consumed five more cubes of energon and Jazz two before it was dusk.

~It is time,~ Prowl nudged Jazz over the hardline. ~One more loop, showing you going to recharge for the night and we go.~

Jazz lifted his head and nodded. It felt like almost no time at all before he had finished going through his nightly motions and was laying down and powering off his optics. He held there for a klik, motionless, before setting the loop and sitting upright. 

He had Prowl out of his restraints in moments and was clinging to him again, not hiding the sharp spikes of nervous energy that came out in his field.

~We are ready. It is planned. There will be no turning back once you unlock the door,~ Prowl said gently, offering the mech he loved one final chance to back out. This was a cage, but it was a gilded one. Prowl knew he could offer nothing of the kind. Not for a very long time at least. Not in time to help their creations.

~I'd rather be in the gutters with you than be here with _him_ ,~ Jazz said, easily understanding what Prowl was offering and the sacrifice he would make if that was Jazz's choice. His hand came up over his spark and the two small lifeforces he could feel there. He cycled his vents once, twice, and focused in on the resolve and strength he had survived this long with, feeling his field smooth out with the next x-vent. ~Even without you, I wouldn't stay here. Not when he plans to hurt one of them.~

Prowl nodded, understanding the choice on several levels. He'd been raised to walk away from his creations shortly after they separated, to watch others raise them and not treat them differently than any other youth, but it did nothing to calm the carrier protocols he suffered with each time. Jazz had not even had that much of an advantage in the choice. If it wasn't for how long they'd planned this, Prowl would doubt it was the right choice. As it stood, he was relieved.

~Then unlock the door and let's go.~

Jazz unplugged from Prowl and took one more moment to look back over the chambers he had spent most of his bonded life in, then nodded once, turned, and hooked into the door's systems. Half a klik later, the mag-locks disengaged with a soft click and Jazz straightened, tucking the cable back in as the door opened. He stared out into the empty hallway, then looked at Prowl. "Ready?"

The Praxian nodded, his focus more inward than outward as he manipulated cameras, recorders, locks and messaging all over the estate to clear their path and hide trace of it. Simultaneously, lights, locks, dispensers, and any other machinery that he could affect began to malfunction, drawing any and all attention away from their route. Along the way there were energon cubes, small credit sticks and other useful odds and ends left conveniently for them to pick up.

It was eerie, Jazz decided, walking through lifeless halls that he had never seen empty before. He tucked the items into subspace as he went, keeping an optic on Vortex's private surveillance while Prowl watched the estate systems. He hadn't seen movement on their path yet, and wondered how long Prowl had been planning to make sure every mecha was otherwise engaged right at this moment. He decided that when-- _when_ , not if--they were free and safe, he was going to have to ask the Praxian how he had managed all of this. 

He picked something up and looked at it for a moment before realizing it was a stack of condensed mineral supplements that he would need as the newsparks started to develop frames. He subspaced it, glanced at Prowl, and flared his field in quiet gratitude.

 _Planning is what I do._ Prowl responded with appreciation and amusement in the glyphs.

It wasn't long before they were in the garden and Prowl's tension spiked. Out here in the open it was much more difficult to ensure no one saw them. He could keep hallways clear, he couldn't keep mecha from looking out windows. He was relying on the internal chaos to distract them, and that was no guarantee. 

Jazz shivered as they started forward, his own tension rising in response, and getting higher the further they were from the estate. He pushed back against it as nerves, fear of discovery, and not being able to see clearly around every path. 

Then they turned a corner that gave them a clear view of the outer wall, and when Prowl moved forward, he didn't. In the next moment, he felt himself taking one backwards, one he didn't want to take, and a panic that had nothing to do with escape, the newsparks, or Prowl rose up in him and he froze, trembling while he fought to move forward. 

_Jazz?_ Prowl texted as soon as he noticed the absence of his shadow. 

He turned, looked and _moved_. Jazz's comms were disabled in a sparkbeat, the hardline forced into place and outer firewalls hacked. ~Jazz, you cannot allow the construct to win.~

The voice that answered him was Jazz, but not as Prowl had ever heard him in here before. ~You're trying to take me from my bonded!~ it hissed, full of disgust and hatred. ~I should have let him kill you for his pleasure! Thief! _Thief!_ I'll kill you, I'll call him, _let go of me!_ ~

Jazz's frame was frozen in Prowl's grip and Prowl could feel two halves warring, one that was trying to lash out at him and the other that was rapidly losing ground as it tried to resist while simultaneously protecting the blocks on the sparkbond, forcing everything it could spare into keep it closed, but losing the physical advantage at the same time. The frame growled angrily and stumbled forward, then froze again as the attention lurched over to stop the command to attack Prowl. 

It was all Prowl needed to see. He focused his full attention, all the advanced processors that he'd been upgraded with and created with, and began to systematically disassemble the profile that was fighting him. It was so very close to murder, but that didn't even cause a moment of hesitation. Jazz had killed a carrier and many others to get them this far. Prowl would kill the profile he had helped create.

The frame gave a hard shudder as the profile realized what he was doing and started to fight back, but Jazz also saw what was happening and shifted his attention, pulling as much processor power away and back as he could while the profile was distracted.

With that strength gone, strength that wouldn't have been enough to fight against Prowl in the first place, it took the Praxian just moments to tear through the rest of the programming. Jazz wrenched free and the frame sank forward, shaking. 

~It's okay, beloved,~ Prowl soothed him, trying to make what he'd just done a little less traumatizing on the young mech than he knew it had to be. ~I will clean up the remains when we are safe. We need to move _now_.~

Jazz nodded and focused on Prowl's voice, forced his limbs to respond again, and ran with him, ducking through the garden with a silence he had learned while meditating and observing his systems for the quietest operating parameters. 

Twice they halted, waiting while guards ran by, before moving forward and when they reached the front gates, it hardly seemed real when they simply unlocked and swung aside. 

There was a visible shudder as they walked out of their prison and living nightmare of more than a vorn. Prowl felt himself starting to crack, the beginnings of the breakdown from relief he knew would come. It couldn't be now though. He put his hand on Jazz's shoulder to turn the young mech, no longer a noble by law, and kissed him with all the passion he felt, everything that had kept him functioning and reasonably sane. At the same time, he brought his cable up to Jazz's chest and plugged into the already-open dataport. 

~We need to split up and rejoin much farther from the estate. If someone notices our absence, a pair will be more conspicuous. You can drive. I must walk. You remember how to check into the hotel?~

Jazz pressed back into the kiss as soon as Prowl started to move away. ~Look for an unlit door, there will be a way to pay outside and it will unlock. I remember. Please be careful.~

~I will be,~ Prowl promised. ~I fit in there better than you do. Try not to be seen. I will join you as soon as I can.~ With a final quick kiss they unplugged.

Jazz looked at Prowl for another moment before he transformed into his simple alt. form that had seen almost no use since his adult upgrades. One supervised drive on a well-lit road during the daylight, and now he was heading through a city he'd never been in on dark roads that were not designed for tourists the way Central City's were. 

_See you soon._ he texted with a glance at Prowl one more time, then kicked his engines to life and set off.

Vortex lived in the richest area of Kaon, so the streets surrounding the estate were wide, smooth, and well-lit, which gave Jazz the time he needed to get used to the feeling of the alt form and the sensors he needed to use to navigate. He was just starting to feel comfortable with the rarely-used form when the roads started to narrow and the lights came less frequently, and more than once, he passed another vehicle heading in a different direction, or drove past a larger frame walking by. A glance at his guidance system showed that he seemed to be heading towards the outskirts of the industry area of the city, and while Prowl had designed a route to go through the least populated areas possible, he still needed to get through the residential district first. 

At one point, he saw a frame that looked enough like Brawl's that he quickly killed his engines and coasted into a shadow, powering everything down until the mech was out of sight. His white armor--something he had once been so proud of, and kept shining and clean--felt like it was glowing in the dark, reflecting every single light, making him stand out in the dark city. 

After waiting two kliks, he restarted his engines and started again. The guidance system told him he was about halfway there and he didn't see anyone else as he passed from the residential area into an industry quarter, and finally reached the hotel. 

It was low and long, with lit and unlit doors spaced equidistant across the front. Jazz glanced at his sensors, saw no signs of other mecha, and transformed again, stepping forward. Something rustled to his side and he jumped away, seeing a small creature moving in the shadows. He settled his spark and looked around, seeing a dark, unlit horizon past the hotel that he was instinctively wary of. 

Shaking the feeling off, he went to a door that was bordered on either side by other unoccupied rooms and looked at the panel on the front. There was a single slot, large enough for a credit stick, and a credit-per-joor price. Jazz pulled the credit sticks he'd been carrying, slid enough in for a dozen joors, and heard the door unlock. 

Three rooms down, a door opened and Jazz found himself staring as a mech stumbled out, obviously over-energized, and glanced his way. Jazz tensed, the mech looked him up and down, and then continued on his way. Jazz ducked into the room and closed the door behind him, leaning back against it with a heavy x-vent. He texted Prowl the number and walked forward to crawl on the berth and wait in awful silence.

It was torture, even with his efforts to meditate. He reluctantly stirred at one point to drink half a cube of supplement-richened energon. He had no idea how long it would take to walk here. Even knowing it was coming, the knock and low bark made him jump.

He very nearly tripped over himself in his scramble to the door. It didn't open immediately to him and he stared at it for a moment, confused, before realizing he had to press a trigger to the side. It slid away to reveal Prowl-- _Prowl_ \--and Jazz grabbed his hand and stepped backwards, pulling him in. The larger mech gave no resistance, only pulling Jazz against him for a relieved kiss once the door slid shut behind him.

Fingers gliding against Jazz's dataport, urgent in the request to hardline. Jazz opened immediately, shivering at the touch and dropping his firewalls before Prowl had even plugged in. The first rush of exchange protocols was a relief to them both, a trembling need to reconnect as they both calmed into the success of the first step in their escape.

~Are you ready to be rebuilt?~ Prowl asked gently.

Jazz nodded. He had stopped caring about his frame a long time ago. Every time he looked at himself, he saw Flatline's repairs, and nothing would ever look like his original adult frame, the one that had been designed to be beautiful and optic-catching in every way, the one that had made Prowl's optics brighten and his doorwings lift in a rare physical expression of interest. He missed _that_ , he would never miss this. He sent as much of that wordlessly to Prowl as he could.

A gentle kiss was Prowl's reply, the connection full of understanding after his own vorn of being mangled again and again.

~Then come. It will be good to speak and comm again,~ Prowl couldn't hide his anticipation of that. It was easy to forget how integral both were until they were lost.

Jazz looked past him at the doorway, readying himself as much as he could to go back outside, no matter how much he irrationally wanted to curl up in this room and possibly never leave. His fingers settled on Prowl's neck, over the vocalizer. ~Yes, it will,~ he agreed. ~I have missed your voice,~ he added with a smile. 

He pulled up the location of the workshop Prowl had given him, double checked it once with the Praxian, then disengaged the connection as Prowl unplugged and they started off. 

Having Prowl there next to him made Jazz feel immediately better as they walked, as illogical as he realized that was. He was by far the stronger of the two at the moment, but Prowl's battered appearance made him feel less out of place in the darkened streets as they passed by small alleys that he tried not to look down too closely. 

When they reached their destination--it looked less like a workshop and more like an abandoned building--Jazz looked at their reflections in the glossy black window reflection, shook his head, and followed Prowl in. They were greeted by a small mech, a minibot by height but not the stocky build most sported. This one was built more like Jazz, but half the height, and Prowl was relaxed around him.

"Ah, hello, it's good you made it," the small mech grinned brightly, his field full of warmth. "Jazz, I'm Mucit. My apprentice is Wheeljack." He motioned to a quiet, mostly white mech with green and red markings and lit up helmfins. "If you have the payment?" he looked to Prowl, who produced three credit sticks.

Mucit took them, gave a quick scan and nodded his satisfaction. "Who's first?"

Jazz looked at Prowl. "You go," he said. For all that Prowl was holding himself steady, there was no way his underused, mishandled frame could be anything other than massively painful after so much movement. He looked back at the smaller mech. "How long?"

"It depends on how much repair work is needed," Mucit gave Prowl a good walk-around. "Less than the orn, with any kind of luck. Yours will go much quicker, since you're in good general repair."

Jazz nodded. He wanted to be awake and alert when Vortex realized what had happened; he wasn't sure if being in medical stasis would affect the blocks he was holding over the sparkbond, and Vortex would definitely realize before an orn was up, probably only a quarter of that, at this point, since it would be not long after dawn when Quickturn came to rouse him for his morning supplements. "Can I watch?" he asked, not sure if he would be able to sit that long with nothing to do but worry.

Prowl nodded, so Mucit did too and waved them all to follow to the back. The door closed behind them and energy shimmered through it, but Jazz's focus was on the room he was in. Simple, no windows, a single average-sized medical berth and a double-wide berth. That's what Jazz understood. The tools and devices were beyond him, but he still watched as Prowl compliantly lay down on the medical berth and shut down before being put into medical stasis.

"Why don't you settle on the berth?" Wheeljack motioned to the one for recharge. His helm fins flashed various colors in time to his speech. "You can watch, or nap. It's not that exciting if you aren't into this stuff."

Jazz nodded and slid up onto it, resting back with his knees tucked up to his chest while the other two turned their attention towards Prowl. He flinched at the first touch, still half-expecting this to all have been one massive stress-induced glitch, waiting for Flatline with his saws and torches and syringes to appear. The sharp movement caught the larger one's attention and he lifted his head for a moment while the fins glowed soft and white, making Jazz think of a smile. 

He settled in a little better after that, watching quietly as the rebuild began with opening up the masses of cables that comprised most of Prowl's neck to find his vocalizer. The pair was obviously distressed by what they were seeing, but didn't say anything until they had the cables cleaned out and everything put back together. There was a moment of relaxation and Prowl began to boot up.

"Wanted to get the vocalizer fixed first so you two could talk for a bit before he really goes under," Mucit explained. "I understand you haven't heard his voice in over a vorn now."

Jazz shook his head. "Can I...?" he asked, gesturing, and when Mucit nodded he jumped off the berth and moved near Prowl's head, carefully touching his helm, intensely aware of the other two watching. He'd spent so long knowing that touching Prowl like this had to be completely hidden at the risk of both their sparks, it was hard to relax until ice blue optics flickered on and no one moved to pull him away. "Prowl?" he asked softly.

"Jazz," the new vocalizer was scratchy and spit static as it booted up, but the designation was clear. It would be a deeper tenor than before, nearly a baritone, but it was still Prowl's.

Jazz almost sobbed, and he _did_ give a startled laugh of relief. "Missed your voice," he said, and touched their helms together. Prowl's hand came up to cup his neck, both of them relishing the closeness.

"I never realized how much I used it until it was gone," Prowl admitted quietly. "Do you like it?"

Jazz hummed into the touch. "It's you, wouldn't matter what it sounded like." He lifted his other hand to cover Prowl's. "But I do like it, very much."

"Good," Prowl sagged in relief, pleasure humming through him. "Much as I'd enjoy holding you forever, the sooner we're rebuilt, the safer we'll be."

Jazz sighed in agreement, nuzzled him again, and regretfully stood up and away. "I'll wait right here," he promised, slipping back onto the berth. Prowl nodded, lay back down and was put in medical stasis once more. Time stretched on and the cheap plating was removed and tossed aside until nothing was left of Flatline's work. Jazz could finally, really start to believe they'd gotten away.

At some point while they were still stripping out unsalvageable parts Jazz felt something hard and furious pounding at the block on the bond. At the same time, something stirred in his processor, weak but determined, seeking out the bond. 

The coding remains of the mostly-destroyed construct, still lurking, struggling up in response to its bonded. Jazz pushed it down, repulsed, and flinched, _hard_ , drawing the attention of both mecha who were standing over Prowl. Mucit had crossed around to the same side as Wheeljack to peer down at something that his apprentice had pointed to, and now they were both looking at him. 

"All right?" Mucit asked. 

"Yeah," Jazz muttered, focusing inward and carefully checking the block. It was holding, and even though the rage on the other side was strong enough for the emotion to seep through, nothing else did, most importantly the awareness on the other end that was trying as hard as it could to find him. Jazz pushed back against it, and the rage was muffled slightly. He looked back at the other two, who were still watching him, and squirmed under the unwavering gazes. 

"Oh, don't mind us," Mucit said, smiling warmly. "I'm just making sure we don't need to disappear in a hurry if anyone comes looking for you." 

Jazz straightened. "How much do you know?" 

"Enough," Mucit said, his tone serious despite his easy, relaxed look. "Some fact, some rumor, and plenty that has been pieced together between the two." 

"You'd leave him like this?" Jazz asked, scowling, gesturing at Prowl. 

"Kiddo, no amount of credits could compel me to stay here if what's chasing you finds this place. Prowl understood that." 

Jazz shifted uncomfortably and settled. "If you know that much, what's to stop you from telling him what we look like? He'd pay you enough." 

Mucit gave him a stern look. "I may have a colorful reputation, but I'm no leak." He chuckled suddenly. "Besides, your friend paid more than enough for silence, on top of everything else you're getting." 

Jazz thought about that for a moment. "How can we know that?"

"I suppose I can't blame you for being mistrusting," Mucit hummed as he reached in and corrected something Wheeljack was doing. "But I promise you, not only is Prowl paying plenty, but he has plenty of friends I wouldn't risk angering. I don't exactly have an estate with my own private guard, you see." 

A particularly hard slam against the bond made Jazz wince again. "Yeah," he said, trying to look relaxed. "I'll tell you if you need to run." 

"I do appreciate it," Mucit said, picking out something that looked like it might have once been a gear but was rusted so badly it was crumbling in his fingers. He shook his head. "Primus what a mess. I might have been wrong, this could take more than an orn. I'd get comfortable if I were you."

* * *

Jazz booted with the odd feeling of not remembering having gone into recharge. The work on Prowl's frame had started to seem close to finished, and he wanted to be alert as soon as Prowl was. A slight frown twitched over his face. The last thing he remembered was Wheeljack's voice gently telling him that carriers should recharge whenever they felt the need. 

Mucit had indeed been incorrect about Prowl's repairs taking less than an orn, and even about them taking more than one orn. Jazz checked his chronometer and calculated that they were past the three orn mark. This was his sixth recharge, and the two medics--if they were medics, he wasn't sure--had each recharged twice, staggering the breaks so at least one of them could be working at all times.

Jazz had heard muttered cursing, but beyond that, they'd communicated by comms. He onlined his optics and focused on the table. 

Wheeljack's frame was blocking most of his view, but what little he could see looked complete, though the bare metal was still colorless. He sat up, automatically pulling a cube out when his carrier systems pinged him to refuel. He winced halfway through the first swallow, choking slightly, as Vortex slammed against the block. 

"You know there are hardware fixes for that," Mucit murmured, and Jazz realized the smaller mech had stepped down off the lift he used and was examining the underside of Prowl's pedes. 

"For what?" Jazz asked, shoring his strength back up against both the bond and the construct that was trying to link back into the rest of his processor, one creeping line of code at a time. 

Mucit glanced at him. "A piece that can disrupt the connection of a sparkbond." 

"I know," Jazz said, a little defensive. "I read about them." 

Mucit chuckled softly. "I'm sure you did," he said. "Then you'll know they must be custom designed, and there are precious few mecha capable of building one." 

That made Jazz hesitate. "I know they need to be custom built," he said. 

The minibot hummed. "If that's all you knew, then you probably don't know what they cost, either." 

"...No." 

"A permanent one is as much as you're paying for all of this," Mucit said, gesturing around. "A temporary one, designed to last anywhere from a few joors to a few orns, is less. They're absolutely illegal without at least two medics' signatures, or a military order."

Jazz thought about that for a moment. "What are we paying for all of this?" he finally asked. 

"Kiddo, if you need to ask, you don't need to know," Mucit said, straightening. "I think that does it," he said to Wheeljack. 

Wheeljack turned around, fins glowing. "There," he said, a smile in his voice. "You recharged _and_ you got to be online when he booted."

That focused all of Jazz's attention on Prowl as the mech booted up, though he couldn't hear anything over the operating sounds of the room and mecha. When Prowl's optics lit, they were the familiar ice blue and immediately sought Jazz out.

Jazz set the cube aside and jumped down. Wheeljack stepped aside for him and Jazz went immediately to stand next to Prowl's head, looking at the newly-built but still very simple helm for a moment before shifting his gaze back to his optics. "I'm glad he never broke these," he said, brushing a finger next to the closer one.

"So am I," Prowl smiled slightly and reached up to lay his hand over Jazz's. "How is the block holding up?"

Jazz's smile faded. "It's fine," he said, deciding to mention the construct later when they were alone. It was weak, he could hold it until then. "I can feel him trying to break it, hasn't really stopped, but it's holding."

"He's recharged enough too," Wheeljack added from the background. "He's being a good carrier."

Prowl's smile warmed and his hand slid down to cover Jazz's spark. "I know. His coding is strong for it," he purred with absolute approval. Reluctantly he tore his gaze from his beloved and focused on Mucit. "I am receiving no errors, only notices of replacement parts. Did the installation go well?"

"Other than the part where it took three slagging orns to rebuild you to the point it was going to be useful, it went smoothly. Your original construction and protoform, what's left of it, is strong." The minibot huffed. "I was going to show you how to operate it now, but given the amount of repairs we did, I think it's best to let them settle and ensure things integrate in this form before you try another."

Prowl inclined his helm and moved, carefully and slowly, to sit up. "Your work matches your reputation," he said, making the little inventor and his apprentice beam. "Please ensure I am awake when you bring Jazz out of stasis."

"Of course," Wheeljack's helm fins flashed brightly in a warm blue. "Until then, you need the recharge and energon as much as your mate right now."

Jazz hummed at Wheeljack's choice of words as he ran his hands over the rebuilt frame. His field played along Prowl's, which felt strange in a way he couldn't place, and he frowned slightly. It felt lighter, like it was missing something he was used to being there. "Your field," he murmured, drawing Prowl's attention. "It's..." His optics brightened suddenly. 

It was missing pain. Something that had been present and underlying for so long Jazz had forgotten how it could feel without. "Primus," he whispered, hand going over his mouth. "I didn't realize..." 

"It is amazing what one can become accustomed to," Prowl smiled weakly before drawing him in for a gentle, chaste kiss. "Adaptation is the hallmark of our race. You and I are no different. The rebuild might feel different from all the extra armor. I requested military grade heavy armor and subsystems."

"Including weapon mounts, though he's currently unarmed," Mucit added, watching the pair with indulgently warm optics. "You're getting similar, though it'll be more of a difference. Your systems are much lighter than his, though your protoforms are of similar size."

Jazz nodded, pressed as close to Prowl as he could get while he continued his exploration of the new armor. His hand went around to Prowl's shoulders and down his back. "What about his wings?" he asked, without turning his head away. 

"He still has the protoform and subsystems to handle them, but he'll only wear them when he chooses," Mucit said easily.

"It is part of why this rebuild cost so much. We're getting shape-shifting capabilities," Prowl purred. "Like new alt mode scanning, but far more extensive."

Jazz purred in response, more from hearing the sound coming from Prowl's frame and feeling the true enjoyment and relief in his field. "That can't be simple," he said, nuzzling. He could feel himself finally starting to relax, despite the presence of the other two, and he brought his hands back up around Prowl's neck. 

"It's not," Wheeljack grinned, about to go into detail when something _struck_ the block on Jazz's bond, sharp and focused, and Jazz hissed softly, immediately tensing back up. 

"He'll give up eventually," Prowl murmured with a soft kiss, then glanced at Mucit. "You are sure it's safe to put him in stasis?"

"It should be," the minibot nodded. "It's not like there's a choice, if we're going to upgrade him."

"Eventually could be vorns," Jazz said, shuddering and wincing as the strike came again, and then faded back to the dull, simmering rage. "So I guess the sooner we do this..."

"The safer we'll all be," Mucit finished for him. "Are you ready?" 

Jazz nodded, nuzzled against Prowl for another moment, then straightened and stepped back enough for Prowl to stand. Jazz turned and strong fingers curled around his waist, helping him up onto the berth and he lay down, one hand over his spark and the other touching Prowl's face. It made him nervous to shut down and allow the two medics full access to his systems and the newsparks, but Prowl trusted them, and he could trust that. "You'll stay here?" he asked.

"Of course," Prowl kissed him gently. "I'll be no further than the berth."

Jazz nodded, then forced himself to let go and lay back, cycling down into a light recharge, and then slipping offline into stasis.

* * *

The first thing Jazz became aware of was a hard, throbbing anger striking against the block, one that hadn't diminished in the least. He didn't want to think about how angry Vortex had to be for it to leak through strong enough to be felt when even his overloads had been completely blocked out. He was sure that was why the wrecked construct had started to claw its way back up. It felt like old, lukewarm sludge seeping into his processor. He shuddered, checked the block, and then focused his attention up and out. 

A very long list started scrolling up, detailing changes he didn't even understand fully, with the occasional installation notice as something wired itself into his now-online processor. He booted his vision, turning his head to seek Prowl out. The Praxian was smiling down at him from the berthside, his hand reaching out to caress Jazz's face.

"Any errors?" the voice he was quickly learning to love asked.

Jazz heard a snort to his other side and shook his head. He shifted, tried to sit up, and quickly stopped when everything moved _wrong_. He froze for a moment, then tried again, slower, focusing on the differently moving hydraulics. There was more weight to be moved, but he could tell there was more strength to move it with. The balancing was all different. "None," he said. "Feels weird," he added, focusing for the newsparks, and relaxing when he felt them unchanged.

"You're much larger and heavier," Prowl nodded, his optics roving over the very simple frame that looked a great deal like his own. Heavy, boxy, utilitarian. It was merely mass to work with for the sorcelling device. "You'll be used to it soon. Energon levels?"

The carrier systems pinged at almost the same time and Jazz obediently pulled a cube and drank it slowly, getting a feel for his arms as he lifted the other one to reach out for Prowl. 

He subspaced the empty container and swung his legs off the edge of the berth, looking around at Mucit and Wheeljack.

"All right, for now, you just watch and get used to that frame as we get Prowl though his first shift," the minibot said firmly. "The process is very energy intensive, so don't go changing if you don't need to."

"Understood," Prowl inclined his helm.

"Bring up your systems HUD, subsystem environmental adaptation," Mucit instructed. "The bottom item should be sorcelling."

"Got it," Prowl said as he watched his HUD scroll and shift through menus it hadn't contained before.

"From there you can select a preset form, which is anything you've scanned or downloaded and decided to keep. There are four frametypes in there now. You can also scan any mech that will hold still for it."

Jazz carefully stood up, listening while he took a few steps over to the other berth and stood next to Wheeljack, lifting his arms and looking down at them. He flexed his fingers several times, processor automatically recording the new size and increased distance between tip to palm. 

"You'll want to watch this," Wheeljack murmured, leaning in, his field quivering with excitement.

Prowl considered his choices before selecting one. There was a shimmer and groan of real pain as Prowl's plating began to rearrange itself in ways it wasn't meant to do. It was much like scanning a new alt mode, but far more extreme. Even Prowl's facial features shifted, and for the first few moments, he was barely recognizable as _mech._ It might have even looked disturbing, to someone who hadn't watched other mecha's facial plating dripping away.

Another shift, and wide wings took up a fair amount of plating that was leaving the chassis. Prowl's chevron, or where it had been, extended and then grew down the sides of his helm. Limbs lengthened and thrusters formed where his heel-plates had once been. A third thruster, larger than the other two, took up a fair portion of his abdominal region. Only his optics remained unchanged.

Jazz's optics widened at the change. "Wow," he said, stepping forward, staring at the completely unfamiliar aerial frame, which was now colored in dark greens and silvers. 

"This is how we're going to avoid detection," Prowl said, sounding exhausted from the shift. He leaned down a bit to kiss Jazz. "So long as the block holds, it will be all but impossible to ID us."

Jazz pressed into the kiss, running his hands over the taller frame. "I won't let him break it," he said, then looked towards the pair of inventors, who were looking at Prowl with matching pleased expressions on their faces. "Can I try, or should I wait?" 

"Yes, please try," Mucit said agreeably. "Your frame was in much better repair, you'll be fine without a wait. The sooner you're both in new forms, the sooner we can all get out of the danger zone."

Jazz nodded and stepped back, pulling up the same menu that Prowl had been directed to and skimming over the four pre-loaded options. There was an aerial frame identical to how Prowl now looked, a racer, a standard frame that reminded him uncomfortably of the carrier he'd killed, and an all-terrain type. He braced himself and selected the racer, and almost immediately felt everything _pull_ in a very unpleasant way as his plating stretched and rearranged. It was painful, or would have been, if he didn't know what pain could mean. Compared to being melted down, it was a tickle.

And then it stopped, and he cycled his optics once and looked down at himself, gaze sweeping over the black and red coloration that he now wore, then back up at Prowl. 

"It looks good on you," Prowl purred, stepping close to ghost a finger over the slender, backswept chevron Jazz now sported.

Jazz shivered at the touch and leaned into it, a strong wave of _relief_ washing through his field. They were out, they were hidden, they were going to make it. "So does yours," he murmured, and slumped, venting heavily as his systems urgently pinged him for energon. "Primus, that does take a lot," he said, pulling two large cubes.

"That's why we don't want to use it often, but over our lifetimes, it will be much more efficient than constantly getting rebuilt," Prowl smiled and took a cube of energon out of subspace for himself. "Far fewer individuals to leak what we now look like, too."

"You watch how much you're refueling," Mucit said, looking at Prowl. "One of the reasons you took so long was we could barely keep you at fifty percent capacity without sending you into systems shock. Build it slowly." 

The Praxian nodded. "We've been building my systems up for metacycles. I'll be careful for a few more. It's still a little strange to think that I managed to exist on less than a mouthful of lowgrade an orn for a vorn."

Wheeljack whistled. "Should be easier with the new systems," he said. "They aren't so slagged as yours were." 

"They aren't slagged at all," Mucit said, looking the pair up and down with the gaze of a craftsmech examining his art. "If anything comes up, you know how to contact me, but I don't think you should have any problems." 

"Thank you," Jazz said, then looked at Prowl. "Where now?" he asked, a little pleadingly.

"Now we walk out of here, transform and drive as far away as we can before we find a place to rest," Prowl said simply, his focus on giving as few details as possible away. He inclined his helm to Mucit and Wheeljack. "Thank you for your excellent work. Should it ever come up, I will speak well of you both."

"Thanks," Wheeljack's helm fins flashed happily while Mucit simply smiled and watched the couple leave.

* * *

::Need to stop soon,:: Jazz commed, shuddering as the construct lurched up, forming weak connections into his processors that he quickly shied away from. It had been growing more insistent, and feeling the half-deconstructed thing trying to struggle up to life--something that was based on his own coding, something that felt like _him_ in so many ways--was making his tanks churn. 

It was trying to reach the bond. Forever trying to reach Vortex, whose rage had not quieted. It was more draining than Jazz had expected and this would not be their first stop for him to refuel.

::Can you last another groon?:: Prowl requested. ::We can stop to recharge then. And deal with that thing.::

::Yes,:: Jazz sighed, and as his thoughts started to wander to how exhausted he was, he grabbed them and focused forward, forcing himself to remember the many number of things he had done that had been harder than driving for another groon. In response to his need Prowl dropped down long enough to comfort him with the familiar touch of his field. Jazz felt the support there, the comfort of Prowl's inherent strength, the warmth of systems running without pain and with fuel.

It was a reminder that Prowl had suffered far more than he had and wasn't complaining. Not then and not now. He knew Prowl's fuel level was lower than his. He knew Prowl hadn't had any credible recharge since his first rebuild except for those few joors while Jazz was being rebuilt. Medical stasis while you were being rebuilt just didn't count. It wasn't rest. It didn't help auto-repair or defrag or anything else.

A tiny part of him was waiting for Prowl to have the meltdown and decaorns of recharge he must need by now.

Instead the mech was driving Jazz as hard as the roads allowed and doing his level best not to push him to match the speed of his new airframe.

He flared gratitude, and determination, and pushed his acceleration as high as he dared for the road.

* * *

They managed the distance that Prowl had wanted in just under a groon and Prowl flew ahead, guiding Jazz off the road where it was safe, though Jazz was at a loss as to why he had picked this location. The only place nearby seemed to be a small estate. The back side of a small estate. 

Prowl landed right as Jazz pulled up, carefully maneuvering the new thrusters until he was safely on the ground. He transformed, and within nanokliks Jazz was against him, pulling him into a deep kiss that was readily and greedily returned.

"We'll have to walk from here, but we'll be safe," Prowl murmured as he guided his lover towards the estate's service entrance. "We can refuel, fix that glitching programming and recharge."

Jazz kept his fingers wrapped around Prowl's as they approached the door, where Prowl paused and entered a code. It opened and he stepped in, Jazz followed, and then paused as he looked around. 

He'd never seen servants' work areas, in either of the two estates he'd lived in. They had their own infrastructure that twined with the main hallways, allowing them quick and immediate access to almost anywhere that was needed without being seen getting there, enabling quick and discrete service. 

From here, he could see several halls branching off, a lift, an open washrack, and what might be a hall lined with personal quarters. There was no one in sight.

"This is a summer hunting estate for the House Marchcry. My half brother is seneschal for them. No one will be here for at least two metacycles," Prowl explained, his frame relaxing as the door slid closed behind them. "Fuel, cleaning up your code, recharge, washracks. What order would you like?"

"Fuel, code, washracks, recharge," Jazz said, and then shuddered as the construct seemed to sense their intentions and sent creeping tendrils out, searching for life-sustaining systems. If couldn't have its love and bonded, Jazz was not going to have Prowl. Jazz shoved it down, but the seeking trails of broken coding leaked right back out, slow and steady and ravenous for a taste of spark energy. 

Prowl had started to step forward, but Jazz reached out and grabbed his arm. " _Code_ ," he gasped, giving another hard shudder and a low moan when the construct found a hold and heaved itself up, slavering in anticipation of destroying the thieves. "Code first! Primus--get it _out!_ "

Prowl simply nodded and plugged in, not even giving Jazz the time to open his dataport on his own. The moment Jazz's systems became peripheral to his own he hacked several critical datacores and took full control of Jazz's frame. While he guided them to the ground to lean against a wall, slumped together, the majority of his overpowered systems began rerouting all of the vital signals through himself. It was suicidaly dangerous. If the code got into the right place it could destroy them both. It also gave Jazz the protection of Prowl's firewalls and a system not the construct's own to filter out the broken code.

He settled in and began a systematic scrubbing of Jazz's processors, code, memory banks and active memory for every trace of anything he didn't want there. Entire blocks of memory were obliterated because the adaptive code was integrated strongly enough in them that it could rebuild itself, given enough time. Other memories were simply sanitized, taken into Prowl, erased from Jazz, stripped down to a recorded memory that one might get from a library file, then placed where the full memory had been. After each memory was examined, no matter what happened to it, it was locked down so Jazz could not access it.

Other parts of Prowl's processors began an aggressive sweep of Jazz's code, forcing every line and fragment to justify its existence and lay out every protocol and routine.

It was _terrifying_ , and moving too rapidly for Jazz to understand or even fully feel what was happening. In one instant, he'd been upright, looking at Prowl, and in the next, he was blind and trapped and moving, feeling pieces of himself crumbling away into nothing as memories were taken and shredded, leaving a foundation beneath him that felt like it could topple at any time. 

The pain--if he could call it that--was brutal and pounding, worse than feeling Vortex striking the bond, worse than feeling Vortex striking _him_ , and it left him screaming in silent horror, locked out from his frame, unable to stop _himself_ from slipping right through his own fingers.

Somewhere through it all, he could feel _Prowl_ and he clung to that as hard as he could while the invading presence calmly and systematically tore through him, easily overpowering the shrieking remnants of the construct, wiping it away.

Then just as quick as things had been torn apart, they were back. First his memories, then system after system was turned over to him in rapid succession. It was not unlike booting up, but much less comprehendible.

~Jazz?~ Prowl nudged him gently, everything about him apologetic.

Optics snapped back on, startled and disoriented, and Jazz couldn't remember how he'd gotten here, pressed against the wall with Prowl over him, wings flared out and blocking his view of their surroundings. He shifted, realized his fingers were digging into Prowl's arms, and tried to relax them. 

~Yes,~ he said, still unsettled and anxious without being able to place _why_. He reached tentatively into his processors, and slumped in relief when he found himself alone there.

~It's over,~ Prowl said firmly. ~I removed every trace of it. Do you believe you can stand?~

~Yes,~ Jazz answered, and rose with Prowl, frowning at the vaguely uncomfortable feeling that was still lingering. He shook it off and looked at Prowl, offering a half smile. ~So that leaves fuel, washracks, and recharge.~ After joors of travel, he almost wanted to skip right to the washracks, but he also knew once they were done with that, they weren't going to want to do anything but fall into a berth. 

Prowl smiled, kissed him gently and unplugged. "The kitchen stores are this way. I'll show you which shelves you can take energon from without causing trouble."

Jazz caught him by the hand as he started to turn around, guiding him back, and pulled him into another kiss, this one slower and sweeter. Jazz lifted his hands to wrap gently around Prowl's neck, and flared his field with warm gratitude and love. "Thank you," he murmured against Prowl's lips.

"You are welcome, beloved," Prowl murmured back, heat flaring through his frame. "Energon," he pulled himself back with an effort. "We both need it."

Jazz nodded and let him go enough to be guided around, shown what he could use and important paths around the servant section. By the time they were under the washracks, Jazz wanted nothing more than to be clean and recharging against Prowl's side.

He shuttered his optics and turned his face up into the wonderfully hot rinse and really, truly relaxed, then hummed softly when he felt Prowl press up behind him. 

"You are still beautiful, my Jazz," Prowl's voice was low, a tone that sent a shiver of desire strait to Jazz's valve. Those lovely hands, now a nearly black shade of green, slid along Jazz's hips in a caress that left no questions as Prowl kissed his neck. "You will always be beautiful."

Jazz gasped softly and tilted his head away, lifting his hands to cover Prowl's as he leaned back against him. The words sent a shiver down his frame and calmed something in his processors that he hadn't even realized was bothering him before then. "Love your voice," he murmured, slowly dipping down before sliding back up against his lover. "Could listen to you talk forever."

A low moan and flare of pleasure answered his rubbing and Prowl slid one hand forward, cupping it lightly over Jazz's spike cover. "May I listen to your pleasure for a while, before indulging you some more?"

Jazz stilled as his vents hitched involuntarily. It made sense that with a completely rebuilt frame, he would have a spike now, but that thought had been nowhere near anything flagged as relevant, and it hadn't even occurred to him. He hesitated for a moment, remembering Vortex--

It was irrational, illogical, and he had no reason to be worried, and yet... "Hurt last time," he said softly.

"I know, love," Prowl's voice was a gentle, reassuring coo as his fingers played across the cover, not demanding but trying to entice. "I'm not him. I want to show you your spike can feel good."

"I know it can," Jazz said, annoyed by his own reluctance. He'd spent a vorn dedicating himself to pleasing one spike, and had heard and felt for himself just how good it could make a mech feel. 

He tried to get his frame to relax again, tried to shove away the only memory he had of this, and forced himself to look down so he could believe it wasn't Vortex's fingers tracing the around the plating and making him shiver like this. He x-vented slowly. "Okay," he whispered, more to himself than Prowl, and released the grip he had on the cover's unlocking sequence. It clicked open and slid back immediately, and the tremor that went up his spine had nothing to do with Prowl's fingers. 

"Love?" Prowl murmured, kissing his neck again. "I'd be just as happy to feel your spike inside me, so you can look at me and _know_ it's not the same."

Prowl's voice helped, and Jazz shook his head. "I'm not going to let him win like that," he said, watching the smaller fingers. "I'm not going to be afraid of you." He gave a soft, startled gasp as fingers brushed over the housing, and forced himself to look up, and then leaned his head back on Prowl's shoulder. "Have to start somewhere."

Prowl simply nodded his acceptance and continued to lightly stimulate the spike housing, not trying to hurry along and grateful beyond words that Jazz hadn't wanted seals on this set. He could give the younger mech pure pleasure and not try to cope with his own issues just yet.

It took a long time standing under the shower, feeling Prowl's field meshing smoothly with his own, listening to his quiet, calming voice, and shivering under the careful strokes before Jazz finally felt the housing spiral open to allow the tip of his spike to extend against Prowl's palm. He stilled, panting quietly, and reached up and back to wrap his arm around his lover's helm. Prowl tipped his helm down to kiss him softly, affectionately.

"So beautiful," Prowl murmured as the long, almost ruffled length slid along his palm as it extended. His valve clenched at the though of having that inside him, rubbing along sensor nodes with that incredible textured shape. "Oh Primus," he breathed as his fingers explored the complex design. "I can't wait to feel this inside me."

Jazz made a soft sound at the touch and shifted his hips forward against it. "Now?" he asked softly, preparing himself to straighten and turn, as much as he didn't want to lose the fingers.

Prowl caught the flicker, just barely, and shook his helm. "In a proper berth. For now, enjoy my fingers. Relax and let me feel your pleasure."

Jazz sighed in relief and sank back down, more than happy to do just that, even with the hints of anxiety going through his field. He blocked out the only memory he had associated with spike pleasure and promised himself, over and over, that it wasn't going to happen again.

One klik went by, then two, and by the third, Jazz finally believed it and his frame gave a hard shudder at the next slow stroke. "Prowl," he gasped, and moaned, long and low, when a thumb swirled around the tip.

"Yes, my beautiful love," Prowl purred, his field full of enjoyment of Jazz's pleasure as his fingers explored each of the thick, gently rounded ruffles along the spike's length. "I am here. I want your pleasure. I want you to feel good with every touch I give."

"Does feel good," Jazz managed, shivering and jumping every time Prowl shifted to a different soft ridge and traced around it. His hips moved on their own, seeking _more_ , looking for _faster_ , and he whimpered softly, holding onto to Prowl as tightly as he dared. "Better than I thought," he said, a moan underlying the words. "I... _Prowl_ \--Primus, good, so _good_."

"Love how you sound, how you feel in pleasure," Prowl purred encouragement. "I've dreamed about this for so long. Ever since you got your mechling upgrades. I knew I was in trouble even before that. You have such a bright spark. So full of life, strength, joy in exploring and knowing. I wanted you to be mine so badly it ached. Now I have you. Against all the odds, you are mine now. I want to fill your life with pleasure and all it should have been for such a wonderful spark."

Jazz all but came undone as Prowl's rich, seductive tenor washed over him and didn't stop. He bit back as much as he could from his vocalizer, wanting to listen, but by the end he couldn't hold back and he was moaning and gasping, meaningless, jumbled words and sentences. He shuddered in Prowl's arms as static shimmered over his frame and he whined when Prowl grew quiet for a moment. "Don't stop," he begged. "Please, please, Prowl!"

"I'm right here," Prowl purred with a warm chuckle and welcoming field. "I watched you all your existence, you know. I was there when your creators couldn't be bothered. I knew you'd be special. I knew that sparkling with barely any armor would become a stunning adult. I lost count of how many I took to my berth trying to forget how many vorns it would be before I could touch you. Even when I kindled my last creation I thought of you above me, inside me, filling me with new life. I wanted to be yours, to carry for you, do anything for you."

Jazz cried out and shook against his lover, pushed right up to the edge, and then Prowl twisted his wrist on the next downward stroke and Jazz's hips pushed forward into the touch, toppling him over into a _hard_ overload. " _Prowl!_ " he sobbed, shooting transfluid onto the hand that had quickly moved up to palm the tip of his spike. 

It took three hard surges of energy before the overload crackled out into aftershocks and Jazz slumped back, trembling in Prowl's strong hold.

"So beautiful, so intense," Prowl's voice had deepened with his increased charge. "I will never tire of giving you pleasure."

It took real effort for Jazz to get his weight back on his own pedes again and he turned, grabbing Prowl into a frantic, clashing kiss. "What do you want most?" he gasped, cooling fans still trying to dispel the excess heat from his systems. "Tell me, anything." 

"I want you to be happy," Prowl answered with the first thought that responded to the question. "I want you to still love me when we're old."

Jazz stilled and pulled back, his hands trailing down to Prowl's shoulders as he looked at him with wide optics, genuine surprise and something that was almost confusion in his field. "Prowl," he murmured, then gave a soft, easy laugh. "I'm never happier than when I'm with you. I never want to be apart from you." He smiled and touched their helms together. "You know... when I was a youngling, and my creators told me I was destined to an Intended, that I would leave their estates, I was terrified, because I thought it meant I wouldn't get to see you every day."

The flare of pleasure, relief and warmth enveloped Jazz from Prowl's field. Another kiss, soft but hungry, and Prowl reached to turn the shower off. "Dry off and find a berth where I can finally fill you with my transfluid?"

Jazz groaned as the words immediately made his arousal flare back up, hot and demanding. "Yes," he breathed. 

Prowl smiled and they made short work of drying off and tracing the path to the room Prowl said was theirs for the decaorn. Just before they stepped in, Jazz grabbed his hand and stopped, making Prowl turn towards him with questioning frown. "Jazz?"

"The end of that story, about my creators," Jazz said, glancing from Prowl to the floor. "When they told me... I threw a fit, and said that if you weren't going too, I would run away and take you with me." He lifted his optics back up, and offered a brief, melancholic smile.

"It seems we managed to do so anyway," Prowl smiled gently down at him and gave a soft kiss. "Though I would have never anticipated the last vorn," he said softly and guided his lover to the simple berth, far harder than what Jazz was used to with barely any padding, and settled him on his back.

Jazz relaxed as he stretched out, field open and warm, fingers never leaving Prowl's frame as the Praxian moved over him. This, he knew. This was familiar, and welcome, and easy. "Feels weird," he murmured as he traced over the new plating, strong and healthy. "Like we should have done this so much more by now." 

"I know," Prowl smiled sadly before kissing him. Their frames molded together, each eager for the contact as Prowl's spike slid free between them. It was no longer a simple, unadorned shaft that rubbed between them. This time it had a full, rounded head with three gentle scallops before reaching the shaft that felt like a thick braid before it spread out into a slight bulb at the base with cord-like bands.

Jazz reached down between them until he could curl his fingers around the length, touching and exploring the new length as he shivered, his valve cover sliding back as he pushed up with his hips. "Feels good," he purred. "I like this one." 

"Good," Prowl purred into his moan, his hips rocking into the touch he made no effort to pull out of to sink into the welcoming valve just below. "I designed it just for your pleasure."

Jazz hummed as he stroked, caressing and learning the new shape. "Want you," he breathed. "Want to make you feel good." He pulsed his field, running it smoothly against Prowl's, still reveling in how much lighter it felt now, and flared his eagerness for him.

" _Yes_." A low, heated groan escaped Prowl at the words. He reluctantly drew back enough to leave Jazz's grip and dropped his hips to align with the slick, hot valve he knew was so close. A shiver passed through his frame as parts they'd chosen for themselves touched and Prowl's rounded, gently sloping spike head pressed past the lubricant-soaked platelets for the first time.

Jazz gave a startled gasp as Prowl filled him. The new valve was smaller, and he could feel immediately that the lining was more delicate than anything he'd had in over a vorn. It shivered and contracted around the spike, eagerly cycling over the gentle textures, sending small shocks up through him. "Prowl," he moaned, voice low and husky. " _Good._ "

"Very good," Prowl groaned as he continued to press forward, taking in this intimate space for the first time, feeling his spike used for the first time. It was as intense as anything he'd ever remembered.

Jazz trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the same intensity. It was better-- _so_ much better--than the smooth, generic spike and the valve designed to take what might as well have been a weapon. It was _perfect_ , it was _right_ , the shape and texture and slide with fields that wove and danced together, free from the cameras and the captor. "Frag I wanted this," Jazz gasped, pulling his legs up and back. "For so long, I wanted this."

"As have I," Prowl gasped, coming to a stop fully seated in the cycling valve. Spike housing and platelets rubbed together, enticing little tingles of pleasure. "You feel amazing," he moaned, burying his face against Jazz's neck and holding still, only trembling faintly as he took in having what he had wanted for so long. "So amazing."

"Love you, Prowl," Jazz whispered against his audial. "I don't care about the rest, I have you, my perfect, beautiful mech." He pulled his hips down, just slightly, then lifted them again, moving along the spike. "You're perfect, my everything."

Prowl groaned and panted at the sensation and the words. He gripped Jazz tighter and drew his hips back, using everything he knew to keep his charge in check and draw this out. Their first time as free mecha would only happen once and he wanted it to last. The calipers and cabling that pressed the slick valve lining against his complex spike made it difficult. Every movement out pressed against the underside of the head, drawing an almost sobbing cry from him as the sensation shot through him.

Jazz wasn't making it any easier, with the way he was rocking and panting beneath him. A hand trailed up and moved over the edge of a wing, brushing over smooth planes and tracing fingers along seams, dipping them down to caress sensitive wires wherever they could. "Prowl, Prowl," he moaned, his soft shivers giving way to hard shudders that rose and fell, peaking every time Prowl pushed forward to bury completely in him.

"Won't last long," Prowl gasped, stilling himself for a moment as he tried to regroup to continue for a bit longer. The heat, the slick friction, the _desire_ rolling off Jazz in a torrent was intoxicating.

Jazz whimpered at the sudden loss of friction, but kept himself from bucking up along the spike like he wanted to. "'S okay," he whispered, holding Prowl tightly, curling fingers around the back of his helm. "Want to feel you spilling in me, Prowl, please, waited too long..."

The mech above him groaned, shuddered and drew back to drive forward. Then again, and again. Prowl groaned and shuddered, energy beginning to crackle over his frame.

"Jazz," he moaned, kissing Jazz's throat blindly as he began to loose control of his frame to the pleasure's drive. His grip tightened, wanting, needing the overload that was racing towards him.

"Yes, _yes_ ," Jazz gasped, letting go completely to the driving motion, the way Prowl's hips rolled into his with every push, the pure pleasure he could feel running through his lover's frame and into his. He whined--shivered-- _froze_ \--and then with a harsh, shuddering sob his frame seized and arched under Prowl's, valve rippling in short, tight waves. " _Prowl!_ " he shouted, louder than he'd ever dared, shaking as the rush of overload flared through him, enhanced and driven by his lover's. Hot, thick, heavily charged transfluid rushed into him, driving his pleasure even higher.

The couple shuddered and keened, gripping each other tightly for long kliks as the overload and aftershocks faded.

"Wow," Prowl whispered, awed at the intensity of the experience.

Jazz finally got his clenched, trembling fingers to loosen and relaxed his legs down from where they'd gripped around Prowl's waist. "Could get used to that," he murmured, nuzzling against his lover. In his chest, he could feel the newsparks whizzing and pulsing with the energy influx. "I think they like you," he said with a soft laugh. 

"I could very happily get used to both things," Prowl lifted himself up to look at Jazz and smiled before lowering for a gentle kiss. "They are my creations after all. It's my frame they'll take after. I'm looking forward to giving them as much influence as I can."

Jazz purred happily into another kiss. "If it's going to be more of this, I'm going to be begging you to." He relaxed back onto the berth, looking up at Prowl, stroking a finger down the side of his face. He looked into the familiar optics, sighing after a moment, mood shifting away from the blissful glow into something more pensive. 

"Much more of this," Prowl leaned into the touch. "Share your worries?"

"The bond's been quiet since a little after we got here," Jazz said. "At first I thought recharge, but... it doesn't match his schedule at all." 

"Either distracted by other demands on him, or seeking advice on how to best break through the block," Prowl guessed. "Most likely the later."

Jazz's optics widened. He hadn't considered that possibility. "What if it works?" he whispered. 

"Then he gets a lock on us until we can block it again," Prowl murmured, not shying from the truth. "Fortunately bonds don't give much more than a direction and general sense of location, so he'll still have a difficult time catching us before a blocker can be installed."

Jazz frowned. He had very little grasp on their finances, and when Prowl hadn't seemed inclined to go into detail, he hadn't pushed. But he knew the rebuilds had been incredibly expensive, pushing the lines of legality if not outright breaking them, and Mucit had mentioned Prowl paying extra for the assurances of silence. "Blockers are expensive," he said.

"Very," he nodded. "We can afford it, barely, and it would make existence difficult, especially raising twins. There are other drawbacks as well," he murmured into a kiss. "Once it's installed, your spark cannot be exposed. Even if we could not bond while Vortex still functioned, I could have touched it. Possibly even kindled with you."

Jazz shivered at the thought. "I will outlast anything he does," he said, then smiled faintly. "You would bond with me?"

"Yes," Prowl kissed him firmly, pouring all his belief and desire into it. "I very much want to."

Awe and wonder flared back around him. "But you wouldn't get anything from it," Jazz said. "I lost my social status, my conforming code is all but wrecked."

"It was never your status or conforming code that drew me to you," Prowl reminded him softly. "It was _you_ , the spark and the mech I watched you become before Vortex, and what I still see you becoming as you recover from him."

Jazz traced Prowl's helm, quiet for a moment. "I love you," he finally said, voice soft. "I want my spark to be yours." His expression hardened. "Vortex _will_ pay. No matter how long it takes, I will make him pay. Everything he taught me, it won't go to waste. He'll die screaming," he swore, voice lowering into a growl.

"I will help you every step of the way," Prowl rumbled fiercely. "He has much to pay for."

Jazz pulled Prowl into a deep, heated kiss, moaning softly, but moments later an urgent request for energon, generated now that his systems had cooled and relaxed, pinged for his attention. He sank back and gave a frustrated sigh as he pulled a cube out.

Prowl simply chuckled as he shifted, drawing out of his lover's frame with a moan of pleasurable objection. "After you finish that, recharge?" he suggested even as he settled on his front, his left wing covering Jazz's frame in a protective caress of metal and field.

"Yes," Jazz murmured between swallows, unable to deny that recharge actually sounded more inviting than interfacing right now, no matter how much his valve was protesting the sudden emptiness. He made quick work of the cube, tucked it away, and cuddled as close to Prowl as he could. "Free," he sighed, systems already starting to cycle down. "Just think, we can recharge together for the rest of our lives."

Prowl made an affirmative sound, already most of the way shut down, and the pair drifted into the deep recharge they both needed so badly, fields staying close and meshed the entire time.


	12. Sinking In

Jazz booted slowly, feeling rested and peaceful for the first time in so long. His first thought upon waking was not wondering where Vortex was--although he noted with a bit of a frown that there was pressure against the block again, even though it was nowhere near the levels it had been before--or what horrors he might have to deal with in the coming orn. Right now, the near future seemed to hold nothing but gentle recovery while they rested here. And while he looked forward to interfacing as often as he pleased with Prowl, Jazz found himself most anticipating just being able to _talk_ to him again, for joors at a time. 

He trilled softly when the final systems all came online and he found himself in much the same position he remembered falling into recharge in. He was fully enveloped by a protective wing, curled up next to a welcome and warm frame. He snuggled closer, tucking against Prowl and trilling again, wondering if the Praxian might rouse with him. Prowl showed no signs of booting, and Jazz sent a questioning ping. It bounced back immediately with a medical alert attached to it. Prowl desperately needed more recharge right now. A _lot_ more recharge. 

Jazz hummed to himself. He was online already, didn't need more recharge at the moment, and there was an entire estate to walk around. He was most excited to explore the servants' halls, something he had sought for unsuccessfully in his creators' estates. Probably for the best, he mused, looking back. He would have caused so much mayhem with those, and possibly gotten himself grounded for the majority of most metacycles, which would have meant seeing less of Prowl. 

Then again, Jazz smiled to himself as he looked at the recharging features, maybe that threat would have been deterrent enough. 

He roused after several more kliks of enjoying the feeling of being pressed up against Prowl's frame, went into storage to refuel and refill his own cubes, and set off to explore the estate. The better part of two orns was spent walking all of the empty hallways and peering into as many rooms as he could before his systems pinged at him to let him know that recharge would be favorable to the newsparks. He headed back to the room where Prowl was still resting and curled back up with him, hoping that this time, when he booted, Prowl would be online.

* * *

When Prowl finally onlined, Jazz was snuggled against him and deep in peaceful recharge. As much as Prowl didn't want to move, after nearly four orns without twitching a cable, his systems wanted energon more than recharge. Reluctantly he shifted, moving as carefully as his weak systems could manage so not to disturb Jazz. He wouldn't be gone long. There was no reason to rouse the carrier. He just needed to get to the storeroom, drink a cube and get back on the berth. He still needed a lot of recharge. He just needed energy more at the moment.

Walking down to the storeroom, Prowl quickly calculated how much his systems should be able to handle at the moment--somewhere around sixty percent capacity, possibly more if he didn't feel any overcharged affects from that amount--and looked at the shelves for the proper sized cube to reach that level. 

He found the correct one and walked back into the entryway and found himself standing in the middle of it as he sipped, careful not to introduce too much energon into his tanks at once. He looked around at the quiet hallways and started imagining the bustle that would be here in just under two metacycles, once the Lords, their creations, and their serving staff arrived for the hunting season. His half-brother would be taking up the seneschal post at that point, and before long, Prowl's processors were whizzing through the ornly duties that would be involved in that, everything from scheduling the equipment to be procured and cleaned to overseeing proper storage of any game that was caught, whether still functional or deactivated. 

When he was halfway through the process of preserving the living color of a turbofox for proper display, Prowl stopped and checked his chronometer. He'd been standing there for more than a breem, staring at the wall without even seeing it. The cube was empty in his hand. 

He'd meant to return to their berth and curl back up around Jazz again, why was he still standing here? 

Processors that had been pushed to their very max and almost beyond for nearly a vorn straight dove hungrily on the question with a frantic need to _do_ something that almost made Prowl gasp. They chewed it up in nanokliks. 

Simply, he didn't know how to not be thinking anymore. For more than a vorn he'd been planning, making contacts, arranging meetings, working out plans to the joor, never stopping because of the virus that prevented him from shutting down to recharge and run system maintenance. Not even a nanoklik went by that he wasn't working on something, because if he ever allowed himself to slow down the horror of the situation he found himself in would bury him completely. Even when he was being tortured, something was _always_ running, even if it was just a single line of code, writing a letter one fragment of a glyph at a time. 

And now... 

Jazz was in recharge, plans were set into motion, back-up plans were prepared and waiting, contingencies for everything had been reviewed and confirmed. There was nothing to do but stand here and look at the wall. 

Or recharge. He could recharge again, but he wasn't sure he knew how to initiate it anymore. It was such an alien concept after a vorn, to spend so much time not working, not thinking. He'd only recharged the last four orns because of automated protocols.

So all he really had to do was stand here, staring at a wall.

Prowl shuddered, disturbed by that on a level he couldn't quite place. He had planned this all out, why should it bother him? He looked around again. He could walk anywhere within this estate, look at anything he wanted to, do anything available. 

Free. 

Jazz had murmured it right before falling into recharge, peaceful and sated, but right now, the glyph was anything but for Prowl. Yes, they were free, and for the first time in his entire existence, he didn't need to be composed or in control or working. 

A different line of thought branched off from the first. Yes, they were free, but at what cost? 

Prowl could have gotten free and disappeared very early, he had enough friends and the processors for it. And simply put, Jazz didn't. 

Prowl had stayed for Jazz, Jazz had killed for Prowl. Over and over, every time he needed something more. Prowl could have been gone, the construct could have become Jazz, and they could have both been content with their existences. 

Prowl shuddered again and mentally shook himself. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't Jazz's fault. Ultimately, the lost sparks, adult and sparkling, were on Vortex and the manipulative pain games he took such pleasure in. 

But knowing that, as logical and simple as it was, did nothing to stop the increasing tremors in his frame, or stop the way his vents were hitching. He lifted a hand to his spark. He shouldn't be upset. That Pit of existence was over, done, in the past. He had Jazz curled up in _his_ berth, carrying _his_ twins--so why was he on his knees, why couldn't he move, why could he hear himself sobbing and screaming, why did he feel so guilty and wrecked?

What was _wrong_ with him?

* * *

Jazz booted, still feeling wonderfully rested and calm, but he became aware very quickly that something was different. No comforting field was meshed with his own, and there was no warm frame right next to him. His optics flickered on and he reached out, feeling the berth where Prowl had been. It was cold, Prowl hadn't been there for a while. 

::Prowl?:: Jazz asked, and waited, but no reply came. ::Prowl!:: he tried again, sitting up.

Confusion flared to panic before Jazz could remind himself that if Prowl's comms were gone, he would receive an undeliverable error, and if Prowl had somehow deactivated... well, he didn't actually know for sure, but he would guess it would be the same thing. So it was okay, he just needed to find him. 

Jazz got up and checked the hallway, then headed down for the entryway, thinking maybe Prowl was in the storeroom and had just gotten distracted by something. He turned a corner--

The dark green and silver frame was slumped in the middle of the area, unmoving. "Prowl!" Jazz said, and rushed forward, dropping to his knees, grabbing Prowl's shoulder. The field didn't feel like recharge, it felt flat and unresponsive, what little he could find to teek. 

There was still a field, there was still color in the frame. Jazz grabbed his spiraling panic and _wrenched_ , forcing himself to calm down as much as he could. "Prowl?" he asked again.

He shook his love by the shoulder and felt the field flare in confusion, reflexively trying to ID the cause of the movement. It was so smooth, and it suddenly registered where he knew that feeling from.

It was stasis, like when Prowl was being rebuilt, and he was coming out of it. At least partially.

Jazz stilled and ran his hand up and down Prowl's arm before carefully lifting him and shifting him out of the uncomfortable looking slump. It was strange to have enough strength to move him fairly easily, even though it was still awkward with the wings. 

He got Prowl settled on his back and leaned over him, pressing a hand to the side of his face and stroking his thumb over the jaw. "You okay?" he asked, not even sure if Prowl could hear him. "You with me?"

Ice blue optics lit, weakly. Slowly, the controls seeming almost foreign, Prowl managed to turn his helm to face Jazz. His vocalizer took several tries to initialize, and longer to find the commands to make more than random static to come out.

"Jazz?"

"Yeah, it's me," Jazz said, looking his lover up and down. "Are you okay?"

"I..." he paused, then winced as the content of two comm messages were delivered. "I scared you. I'm sorry." He leaned into his mate. "I just went to get some energon so I could recharge again."

"The berth wouldn't have cooled in the time it took you to get energon, and that _wasn't_ recharge," Jazz said, while he pressed his field forward reassuringly in response to the apology. "What happened? Do we need to get to a medic?"

Prowl shook his helm firmly. "I have a pit of a processor ache, but everything's coming up green. I ... believe that is what happens when I stop planning now."

Jazz stared at him. "You _crash_ if you're not planning?" he asked, the worry obvious in his voice. 

"That ... if what I can recall of what happened prior to the crash is accurate, yes," Prowl answered weakly and attempted to stand, bracing himself against Jazz as he worked to reacquaint himself with his frame commands. "I need energon, recharge and a solid defrag right now. Otherwise, I appear to be fine."

Jazz moved to help him, fretting, and pressed a cube into his hands as soon as he was upright. "But... before we went into recharge, in the washrack, and the berth," he said quietly. "You weren't planning then?"

"That was an automatic shutdown because my systems required it," Prowl murmured, uneasy about everything that passed through his processors in the kliks before the crash. "No, I wasn't planning, but I wasn't aware either. I don't remember how to shut down on my own."

Jazz stiffened. "Prowl," he said, very softly, touching their helms together, hands on his chest. He didn't know how to respond to that, so he pressed the question he still didn't understand. "What I mean is... you weren't planning while we were interfacing, right? And you didn't crash then, you were fine, you were relaxed." 

"I was," Prowl shook his helm slightly. "Even when Vortex had me so torn apart I couldn't move and only knew _pain_ , I was still working. Yes, I was working when we interfaced. In the background, almost beneath notice, but I was working. I'm working now. Picked up the moment I began to boot up."

"So what happened?" Jazz asked, still worried by his lover's decision that he didn't need a medic. "If interface--if _that_ interface--wasn't enough to make you stop working, what happened this time?"

"I ... I allowed my processors to wander as I drank, " Prowl said, recalling, and recited the memory as it came to him. "I was thinking of what these halls would look like when the nobles and their staff arrived. Going over what my half-brother would be doing when he arrived, preparing for the hunting season. I was about halfway through the process of how to preserve the living color of a turbofox for proper display when I noticed that I'd been standing still for more than a breem, empty cube in hand, staring at the wall without even seeing it. I hadn't moved, hadn't registered that I hadn't moved. My frame wasn't even an afterthought. I was lost in something..." he shuddered, his frame curling in on itself slightly as the emotional pain began to rise again.

Jazz gripped his shoulders as the pain spiked and flared against him and pressed his field back, as calm and soothing as he could make it, hiding his bewilderment that standing still could cause that kind of upset. "Hey, shh, I'm here," he murmured, and brought one hand up to stroke Prowl's helm. "It's okay, we're safe, I'm here!"

Pale blue optics had gone nearly white in Prowl's distress as he worked to focus on Jazz. He'd done all this for Jazz, to _have_ Jazz.

Oh Primus, what _had_ he done?

Trembling again, a tiny sound of horror escaped his vocalizer and he felt the shutdown threatening if he didn't control himself. There. That was it. The emotions were the trigger. Out of control emotions. Emotions that became too strong. That was what shut him down.

His vents wide open, gasping for air, Prowl made a few quick edits to his code. All emotional content over the thirty percent of maximum would be shunted to a deletion spool without being processed.

It was ugly. On a level he knew he was mutilating himself. He didn't have much choice now. It was the least of his crimes.

While Jazz shook him and tried to get his attention, Prowl focused outward again. "I'm sorry. I worked out what caused the crash. Excessive emotional output."

Jazz was giving him an alarmed look, having felt the rapid _upset-distress-horror-fear_ starting to spiral out of control before plummeting, and not in a natural, controlled way, but in a short, artificial cut. 

"Excessive emotional output?" Jazz repeated. His optics widened. "Prowl, what did you just _do?_ "

"I inserted a protocol that shunts all emotional levels over 30% to a deletion spool so I am not overwhelmed again," Prowl said gently. "This is better than crashing every time I process difficult things."

Jazz wrapped his arms around Prowl and pulled him flush, holding tightly. "Are you okay now?"

"I ... will be," he murmured, warmth returning to his field as he slid his arms around Jazz and held him. He tucked his helm against Jazz's neck and relaxed there. "I did not mean to frighten you with any of this. The reality of what we did, and what I could have done differently, finally hit me."

Jazz sighed, shivered, and tried not to think about everything he'd done. "We're here, that's what matters," he said. "Come back to the berth with me." 

"Yes, it is all that matters. We are together and we will remain that way," Prowl said firmly and lifted his helm to kiss Jazz softly. "Yes, I want to be in the berth with you. Always with you."

Jazz shivered again for entirely different reasons as they made their way back to their berth, sinking down with his lover and curling up in the warm, welcome caress of his field.

* * *

Jazz began to boot to the very pleasant sensations of gentle hands stroking his plating and the warmth of Prowl's field meshed with his, several orns after he'd found Prowl collapsed in the entryway and one recharge cycle later. 

He hummed contentedly and arched into the touch, curling closer to Prowl as the sequence finished. "Could get used to this too," he murmured, basking in the simple joy of onlining next to Prowl.

"I would enjoy that very much," Prowl purred as his hands slid along his lover's flanks, taking his time to rouse Jazz's interest despite the intensity of his own.

Blue optics finally flickered on and Jazz's hum turned decidedly more mischievous when he caught the flickers of arousal in his lover's field. He reached out to mirror Prowl's touch on his frame. "You're all right?" he asked, needing that answer before anything else. 

"Yes," Prowl assured him with a kiss. "The defrag cycle was very helpful. There's still a lot to go, but the rest can be handled in regular recharge cycles."

"Oh good," Jazz said, and slid his hands up to cup Prowl's face and pulled him into another kiss. He grinned into it and hooked a leg around Prowl's waist, tugging. "And I can spend plenty of time wearing you out enough to recharge," he added in a purr that earned him a shiver of desire and another kiss as strong hands caressed his back. With little warning Prowl shifted to his back, already long familiar with how to maneuver with wings from when he had doorwings.

"I want your spike," Prowl rumbled eagerly. "I want to feel you deep inside me, the liquid heat of your overload."

Jazz's vents hitched slightly but he nodded and shifted from where he'd been straddling Prowl's hips to kneeling between his legs. "Might not be very good at this," he said apologetically, more than a little awkward as he figured out the new position, running his hands over Prowl's waist and down to his hips, exploring curiously from the new angle. 

"You'll do fine," Prowl assured him with absolute confidence. His valve cover slid open as he spread his legs further.

Jazz hummed softly, thoughtfully, as his hand slid between Prowl's legs and his fingers found his lover's valve. Platelets shivered beneath his touch as he circled it, gently brushing over sensitive surfaces as lubricant coated his fingers and was spread around. He kept his gaze up, watching and enjoying the small tremors each movement was sending through Prowl's frame. In this Prowl was demonstrative as he was in nothing else, in frame, field and voice. Jazz could have no doubts when he pleased his lover. "Before you took me the first time," he murmured, never stopping his careful strokes, optics flicking up to meet Prowl's darkening ones. "When he was watching. What you did. Would you like that?"

"Yes," Prowl moaned eagerly in response. "I want you. Want you to enjoy, do what you want."

Jazz nodded once and shifted back into a crouch, lowering himself carefully between Prowl's parted legs, rubbing the entire time. He looked at the glistening valve, watching the way his fingers caused shimmering waves of movement to ripple inward and disappear. He leaned in and x-vented hotly, spreading his fingers into a V around the opening, then pressed a kiss right between them.

Prowl's hips rolled into the touch as the mech keened sharply. His field flared, a scalding liquid heat rolling over Jazz's frame in encouragement.

Jazz moaned and shivered into it, slid his hand away and parted his lips, flicking his glossa out and swirling it around the same path his fingers had been following. The taste of lubricant was familiar enough, but different in a way he couldn't place except that it was _Prowl_. He licked up and pushed into the opening, circling, while sliding his hand down his own frame to press against his spike cover. 

It slid away almost instantly and Jazz moaned again, right into Prowl's valve, and started touching the housing, slowly coaxing his spike out into his hand.

"Yes," Prowl moaned, his valve quivering and clenching around the quicksilver intruder that teased with such pleasure. "Ohhh, Jazz," his helm fell back as he gave himself over to the bliss that was his lover's attention. "What turns you on, makes you want to take me?"

Jazz whined softly and felt his fingers tightening around his spike as they explored the new texture, carefully touching and feeling, still more focused on what he was doing with his mouth than on the flares of pleasure from his own equipment. He pulled back for a moment and licked, long and slow. "That," he breathed. "Your voice, hearing you want me." 

"Yes, oh I want you very much. Every way possible," Prowl happily launched into the request. "I want your valve, so tight and slick and hungry for me. I want your spike to fill me. What my hand felt the rest of me wants too, so much. It's going to feel _so_ good with all that texture sliding in and out of me. I want to overload while we're plugged in, exchanging nothing but energy and a few touches. So clean but safe too. I want your spark. I want to merge with you and let you feel just how much, to let you know exactly why I did so much for you. Yes, by Primus, I want you so badly."

"Frag," Jazz gasped, shivering under the rich caress of Prowl's voice and the images it was painting for him. "Yeah," he said, short and harsh, feeling his hips starting to push into his hand, and twisted his wrist as he rubbed. In a quick series of movements, he swirled his glossa around the valve once more, shifted up, and moved over Prowl, settling between his legs. Spike in hand, he pushed forward until he felt the tip come right up against the slickened valve opening, and held there, rubbing. "Ready?" he said, voice hoarse, and then stilled at the open expression of _want_ on Prowl's face, awestruck by it. "You want me," he whispered, almost unable to believe it. 

"Yes, my love. I have wanted to be under you, to have you inside me for so long," Prowl moaned deeply. "I dreamed of warming your berth when your Intended tired of you, of carrying a creation for you, even knowing you could never acknowledge it legally. I've wanted to spread my legs for you for so long. So very long. Please, Jazz, please fill me, stretch me wide. Make me scream your designation."

Jazz groaned and pressed forward, sinking slowly into the tight heat, feeling the valve squeeze and clench around him. He stopped, not even halfway buried, already shaking, and moved both hands forward to support his weight. "Primus," he whispered, looking right into Prowl's optics, then bent forward and pushed until their hips were flush, and held. " _Primus_ , Prowl, you feel amazing."

"So do you," Prowl moaned, pressing his hips into the contact, desperate for more. "Never felt this good before."

Jazz gave a short, soft laugh as he lowered himself from his hands to his elbows, bringing their chests together as he got used to the new sensations before slowly rocking back and pressing in again. "Yeah, 's good," he gasped, frame shivering as Prowl cycled around him. Another slow rock and he groaned, amazed.

Prowl's arms came up to embrace him, stroking his back and reveling in the sensations. His calipers cycled, closing around the underside of each ruffle where the spike was thinnest and trying to draw it deeper, even when the tip was pressed against the back of his valve. He could only imagine what it felt like to pull back against that, feeling the calipers and the slick lining over them as they resisted each withdraw until they slid over one ruffle to catch on the next.

Jazz pressed close and slid his arms under Prowl's shoulders, wrapping his hands around them and holding tightly as he moved and shuddered and gasped, feeling like he was already most of the way lost to his lover's warm frame. His mouth pressed to Prowl's neck and his optics flickering dazedly, he rolled his hips in short, slow waves that were gradually speeding up, encouraged by the sounds he was drawing out of the frame beneath him.

"So perfect," Prowl moaned, shivering at the sensations assaulting him. He had much more experience in the berth than Jazz, but never had it felt this good. "Love you, want you, always want to be with you," he gasped out.

Jazz sobbed in joy against him, bliss washing into his field. "You'll always have me," he promised. "Never leaving you." Everything he'd gone through, everything he'd done and seen, he knew in his spark that he would do all of it again, just to be here with Prowl. He gasped out his lover's designation, losing himself fully, unable to control his frame as the speed and strength of his thrusts picked up, grinding their hips together.

Prowl gasped again and rolled into each thrust eagerly, his charge already high enough for Jazz's overload to trigger his. "So beautiful in pleasure. Overload in me, my lovely. Let me feel it all."

Jazz shuddered and his fingers dug into Prowl's shoulders for leverage while he pressed his face against him, mouth wide, vents harsh and uneven. "Love you," he managed, then cried out as he seized against his lover, driving forward in two short, rapid thrusts, giving into the charge and shooting liquid-hot transfluid deep into the rippling valve. " _Prowl!_ " he shouted, sobbed, _prayed_ , frozen in overload inside his love.

Prowl was incapable of answering him in anything more than a keened "Jazz!" as the charge washed through him, triggered by his lover and his own desires.

They shuddered together, locked tightly in the embrace as their frames calmed down, leaving them both dazed and gradually relaxing.

"Amazing," Prowl murmured as his senses returned to him.

Jazz managed a hum of agreement, slumped over his lover, just as slow in recovering. He shifted and shivered, spike still buried inside Prowl. "Very," he agreed, huddled against the Praxian as close as he could get. "Now I know why..." he trailed off, and made a quiet, never-mind noise.

Prowl hummed agreement and stroked Jazz's back. "So you'll be looking forward to it next time?"

"Yes," Jazz purred, relaxing into the gentle touches he'd been missing for too long and now couldn't get enough of. "And the time after that," he added with a grin, running his fingers over the edge of Prowl's wing, playing with the moving pieces as he found them. 

"Good," Prowl shivered at the touch. "It is one thing that can be only ours."

"I'm glad I could still have this for you," Jazz said softly, tracing his path back up to Prowl's neck. "One thing he didn't touch." He sighed and his hand stilled. "I'm sorry he took so much... Wish it could have all been for you."

"As I wish we did not have to suffer for his pleasure," Prowl said gently, his touch light and reassuring. "It is over now. We no longer have to submit to him, or to anyone."

Jazz hummed softly. "Ever," he murmured, then frowned, winced, and brought his hand up to his spark. "He's at it again," he muttered, and rolled off of Prowl onto his back, shivering as he pulled out. "Frag. Feels different." 

"How different?" Prowl focused on him. "I can shore up your will and energy," he offered, brushing a hand over Jazz's hardline port.

"It's...softer, but more focused." Jazz lifted his hand up to Prowl's face. "Don't, you need everything you have."

Prowl's focus sharpened. "No. Blocking the bond is the most critical thing. If he can track us, everything else is irrelevant. He must not be allowed to track us." He turned his face to kiss Jazz's palm. "Remember that. I can help if you need it."

Jazz smiled and brushed his thumb along Prowl's jaw. "I know," he said. "It's softer, I can hold it. As soon as I don't think I can, you'll know."

* * *

Jazz stretched and purred as he booted, coming online to the hazy bliss of having fallen into recharge after riding out an intense overload. Prowl's wing was over him and Jazz was on the inside of the berth, his lover curled protectively between him and the door. Jazz checked his energy levels, surprised he hadn't been pinged yet, and found them higher than he was expecting. Prowl must have stayed online longer than him and gotten some energon into his systems. 

Jazz smiled and hummed and felt the newsparks resonate happily in his chest. They had felt brighter and more vibrant in the near decaorn they'd been resting at the estate, quick to pick up on Jazz's drastically lowered stress levels. Jazz lifted a hand up to rest over them while carefully looking at the bond. Quiet and still, though that certainly wouldn't last. 

For right now, though... 

Jazz shifted closer to Prowl's recharging form and nuzzled, trilling softly as he reached down to stroke his lover's hip. Prowl hummed in reply, though he was far from coherent yet. It was telling that over the orns here Prowl had relaxed enough to trust that any touch would be Jazz. He continued the slow strokes up and down Prowl's side, reaching up to his shoulder before going back down to his hip and then dipping down to brush between his legs, trailing his fingers around both interfacing panels while he listened to internal systems starting to hum and click as they were brought online.

An affectionate brush of Prowl's field ghosted across Jazz's as the mech came on line.

"Insatiable," Prowl teased him lazily. "What appeals most?"

"Can't help it, lover," Jazz purred, releasing the control on his field and allowing it to flare out, bright with anticipation and arousal. He reveled in the moan it garnered. "Can't get enough of you." His fingers paused between the panels, then shifted up to caress the spike panel. "Want you to spill in me," he whispered, deep and lustful. His rumble deepened when it immediately slid open, Prowl more than willing to indulge.

"Then spread yourself out, lover, and I'll make you scream," Prowl promised as he lifted himself up.

Jazz shivered just from Prowl's voice and rolled onto his back, legs opening wide and valve completely bared, fingers never leaving the spike housing as Prowl shifted over him, dancing and stroking as the spike he adored so much slid out and pressurized into his touch. "Know you will," Jazz hummed, and reached his free hand up to curl around Prowl's neck, bringing him down into a kiss. "You always do." 

A low hum vibrated between them as Prowl enjoyed the kiss and the touch. He reached between them to stroke lightly along Jazz's valve entrance, testing for slickness.

"So ready for you," Jazz whispered as the touch brushed over glistening platelets. His own fingers brushed around the tip of Prowl's spike, teasing, barely giving any pressure.

Prowl smiled and kissed him. "Always ready for me," Prowl purred and shifted forward to line his spike up with the valve's opening, just barely teasing it before pressing in with a groan of pleasure. "Always so perfect. You feel so good around me."

Jazz moaned softly, arms coming up to wrap around Prowl's neck and helm, holding him tightly while he cycled around his lover. "Love you inside me," he purred back. "Love being inside you. Everything," he gasped with a sharp rock of his hips as Prowl drove forward. "Love all of it." 

"I want to ensure every orn is filled with pleasure now, yours and mine," Prowl moaned as he curled his arms around Jazz's shoulders and sank fully into that slick, warm embrace. "I'm going to fill you every chance I get to strengthen our creations. Once they're mechlings, I want to carry the next one and feel you fill me every orn until it separates."

Jazz managed a soft, joyful laugh between his moans. "I want that," he gasped. "Want to fill you with life, to be with you, carry for you, always, Prowl--" He groaned sharply, back arching up and head falling back. "Nn--feels good, right there, _yes_ \--" His frame gave a hard shudder and his fingers dug into Prowl's shoulders for leverage while the other hand fell down to fist at the berth, rocking into the thrusts, quickly becoming undone. "Good--good-- _aah!_ \-- _Vortex!_ "

Prowl jerked sharply, stunned into freezing at the designation his lover had screamed as he overloaded. His frame still, he rode out Jazz's bliss, his optics bright as he looked down, calculating the odds that it was reflex compared to the odds it was the truth. Either way, it was dangerous once they were in normal living conditions.

Jazz sank back as soon as the charge faded out, dazed, and confused by the lack of movement over him, even more so when he had regained enough of his senses to realize that Prowl hadn't overloaded. He looked up at him, frowning, and pulled the memory to replay--

He froze, optics spiraling wide, and he stared at his lover in some horror. "Prowl..."

"Now that you know who's with you, why'd you call for him?" Prowl's question was asked rather gently, given all the implications involved.

"I don't know," Jazz whispered, and shifted back into his processors, watching the replay again. He shuddered in disgust when he heard the hated designation in his own voice, screamed out in ecstasy. "I _don't_ want him," he said, repulsed, and listened again, this time with carefully pulled comparisons of when he'd yelled it for Vortex. His optics brightened. The pitch, tone, volume, _everything_ , were an identical match, all of them cried out as the first wave of overload hit. "Primus," he said. "I think I coded it in, I didn't even realize..."

Prowl relaxed fractionally. "It would be very good if that was coded out. We can't go by our own designations once we leave here, but screaming his in an invitation to be found."

Jazz nodded, all of the relaxed bliss he'd booted up with gone in a wash of guilt. "Later," he said, and pulled Prowl down into a very careful kiss. "I ruined that for you," he murmured. "I'm so sorry...do you still want...?"

"Shu," Prowl kissed him back, softly, gently, as his field relaxed. "It's okay." He ghosted his fingers over Jazz's dataport. "Let's fix that coding first."

Jazz nodded and spiraled the port open under Prowl's touch as he pulled up the relevant memories and dropped his firewalls, then accepted Prowl's connection ping. ~These,~ he said, marking the most recent one and the coding that had been lit up at the first crest of overload.

Prowl's awareness caressed Jazz's, gentle and affectionate as he studied the code and traced it back. Gradually he began dismantling it, glyph by glyph, careful not to damage anything else while he was at it. ~This was a smart thing to do, creating a code with a timing algorithm to keep it from being too obvious.~

Jazz curled his awareness up with Prowl's, watching him work. ~Random timing,~ he remarked as the components came apart and were laid out in front of him. ~Triggered when I was too far gone to think about my reaction.~ He gave a soft laugh. ~Surprised it hasn't happened before, you make me forget everything.~

~But you enjoy that it's _me_ enough you're focused on who you're with,~ Prowl said affectionately, giving Jazz a mental caress while he worked, then began rebuilding the code so a new designation could be inserted as needed. ~It will soon be just as important to scream my assumed designation as it is to avoid my real one or his.~

Jazz sighed softly. ~I hate how hidden we'll have to be. I want to bond with you in a public ceremony and start a House with you.~ Quiet, simmering hatred for Vortex rose up beneath his words. ~He took so much.~

~Yes, but only the Prime can undo the legal bond with him now, or pardon our crimes,~ Prowl said regretfully as he finished the new code. ~Insert Susun. It will be what I go by once we leave the estate.~

Jazz complied, examined the new coding structure for a moment, then leaned against Prowl. ~Shouldn't be right that that monster is the one in the legal right in this,~ he growled.

~No, it's not right. It is simply how it is,~ Prowl sighed. ~Have you thought of a new designation for yourself?~

~Tansi,~ Jazz said. ~Are you done working?~

~Yes,~ Prowl purred and backed out, though not before he rolled his hips against Jazz's. "Now I want to hear you scream my new designation, my lovely Tansi."

Jazz groaned at the sudden friction and stretch, feeling his valve ripple in eager surprise, and rocked back. "My perfect Susun," he hummed, and pulled Prowl down as he wrapped his legs around his hips. "As soon as I have, I'll make you scream mine."

"Often and eagerly," Prowl moaned before silencing his lover with a kiss.

* * *

Prowl lay sprawled on the berth under Jazz, both of them content and spent. Jazz's spike was still lodged deep inside his lover and Prowl was lightly stroking his back. "Have you thought of what kind of work you can do?"

Jazz was quiet for a while, his head on Prowl's shoulder and optics unfocused. "Other than my created purpose?" he finally huffed. "No. But I learn quickly. And I like working with my hands, I liked building things when I was a youngling. And I like dancing... if I can even still do it without my frame."

"Your frame will be well-suited to whatever you need to do," Prowl reminded him gently. "We have almost complete control over them now. Working with your hands ... I remember that. You were often building little things. That would be valuable in Tyger Pax. Dancing would as well, but dancers are often expected to be buymecha or pleasurebots. I'm not keen on that unless you want to take credits for others to use your valve."

Jazz huffed again. "That's what I've done for most of my adult life," he said. "Only difference was my creators got the credits."

"Then I'll never mention it again," Prowl promised with a soothing kiss, then shifted a little, uneasy. "What of working at an estate, for a House?"

Jazz lifted his head to look at him. "For just me, or both of us?"

"Both," Prowl's field flickered in surprise. "I'm very well suited to estate work. It pays well."

"You are," Jazz agreed slowly. "And I could learn how to do something." He paused. "What would _you_ do?"

"Whatever opening there is at first," Prowl nuzzled him. "I can work my way up from there. It is not uncommon to take an apprentice from the lower ranks if they show talent."

Jazz sighed and lay his head back down. He wanted to say yes, he could feel how eager Prowl was to return to that world. But...

"Noble society is small and enclosed," Jazz said. "You know that. Two Lords having a minor spat is known planet-wide, so a contracted, bonded mate blocking his bond and running? They _all_ know about me."

Prowl flinched. "And that you're with twins. A single creation could be easily explained. Twins are too rare. Much, much too rare."

"Exactly," Jazz said softly, relieved he didn't have to say it. "Pair that with your processor... every House wants a seneschal from your line. My creators were just lucky that the first of your carrier line worked for their House when they were still first cousins to the royals. They could have never afforded you otherwise." 

"I know," Prowl sighed. "I could have done so much to prevent their losses. They didn't need to lose so many credits." He shook his helm sharply. "Right. So Tyger Pax and industrial work is next. You'll do fine detail work. I'm going to try and get work in management or accounting, but I can do grunt work if need be."

"I'm sorry, my love," Jazz said softly, stroking the base of Prowl's neck. "I know you would prefer to work in that world. If it weren't for the twins...I would follow you anywhere. I just worry he would hear of them and pay someone to take them." He shuddered.

"He's still going to try, but we'll be harder to find as common workers," Prowl murmured and held him tightly. "We'll protect them."

"We will," Jazz said, letting his optics flicker offline. "When do we leave for Tyger Pax?"

"Six orns. We need to become fully accustomed to our new frames." Prowl kissed him. "For now though..." He cycled his valve, making Jazz's optics snap right back on. "Spike me," he purred. 

"And I'm the insatiable one," Jazz teased, purring as he lifted himself back up and gave a slow roll of his hips. He sank into his lover and pressed into a searing kiss before turning his head to nip at Prowl's jaw. "Unless you're going to tell me this is the most efficient way to get accustomed to the new frames," he added with a smirk.

"No, just an enjoyable one," Prowl managed, reveling in the pure pleasure as much as his lover as they fell into an easy rhythm with each other, bliss-soaked fields dancing and twining together. Every motion and bit of attention was encouraged, soft sounds greeting each touch. Stronger flares of pleasure spiked around hips and thighs that ground together with each forward drive, and it did more for Jazz than just feel good. 

No matter his frame or function, he was desirable to the mech that meant everything to him, and that was the most important thing. Everything else--energon, shelter, a berth--hardly mattered next to knowing that Prowl wanted him. He shifted his weight back, bringing his knees in under himself, and ran his hands down Prowl's sides to grip his lover's hips and tugged as he bent forward, giving a quick, sharp thrust into the welcoming valve. 

"Ohh, you feel good," Prowl moaned deeply, rocking into Jazz's smooth thrusts, his focus largely on the way the thickly ruffled spike moved through his valve, making the walls undulate. 

"You feel amazing," Jazz gasped, still in awe of his lover every time they coupled. His fingers tightened, his hips jerked forward, Prowl's back arched up, and they cried out in unison, completely lost in each other.


	13. Tyger Pax

Prowl did one final check of their supplies as he looked around the space that had meant safety and peace for the first time in so long. In addition to drinking as much as they could physically handle and still drive, they'd each packed as much energon and valuable consumables as they could into their subspace pockets. Prowl had a list of how much could be missing from each shelf and each storeroom before it raised alarms when the staff was sent ahead to determine what was needed for the coming season. Which, really, was very little at all. So as long as they left a decaorn's worth for the small staff coming to inventory and clean, no one would question the exact amount. His half-brother had also given him a list of small valuables that wouldn't be missed, so those were stashed away as well.

Between them, they were carrying a small fortune in their subspace. At least, a small fortune for the class of mecha they were now: common transient workers.

Prowl missed his wings, but the heavy industrial frame he wore with little adornment and even less appeal in dark, muddy greens was far more suited to their cover. Even Jazz's frame, though it was more elegant than his with long slender arms and a bit of color, was a solidly industrial design. Just meant for different work than Prowl's. Jazz was going to do repetitive, fiddly work. Prowl, if he couldn't get something in accounting, inventory or management was going to do basic grunt work. Probably on the docks. 

Jazz came up behind him and ran his fingers over Prowl's shoulders, then wrapped his arms around them and squeezed. "I'll miss this place," he said. "A decaorn of nothing to think about but where you were and how quickly I could get you into berth."

Prowl chuckled and leaned into the contact lightly. "I will miss it as well. It is likely the best living we'll have in a very long time to come. Are you ready to travel?"

Jazz nuzzled against the back of Prowl's helm. "Ready in the sense that I am physically prepared and capable, yes."

"The rest won't come with time," Prowl turned and kissed him softly, allowing the embrace they both craved to happen. "I know. If it was feasible, I would gladly join this household or any number of others. But we must make our own way, for the sake of our sparklings."

"I know," Jazz sighed, hand coming up over his spark, where he could feel both the presence of the newsparks and Vortex's increasingly focused pressure against the block. "All right. Let's go." He paused, then pulled Prowl into one more deep, lingering kiss. " _Now_ let's go," he said, grinning, as he stepped away and palmed open the door.

Prowl laughed, an intentional effort to make himself look less like himself and followed his lover out. They transformed smoothly and drove to the main road to Tyger Pax in comfortable silence. It would be a long drive, almost half way around the planet, but it was a very well traveled one by all kinds of mecha moving to and from the industrial core of Cybertron. It was an easy mass to become lost in and it made them both relax a bit.

* * *

It was two weary, travel-filthy mecha who finally made it through the door of the apartment--if it could be called that, with a single berth, a scant amount of storage space, and no washracks. They would have to find the public washracks later, but right now, the need to rest and refuel was more important. 

"Getting worse," Jazz said, leaning heavily against the wall as he pulled a cube and started downing it. Prowl wrapped his arms in support of the much lighter looking but no less light mech.

"I'll see what I can do," Prowl kissed the side of his helm gently. "There are options, even if they aren't good ones."

"I just need recharge," Jazz said, shaking his head, knowing what those options were. He finished the cube and sighed when it didn't quiet the fuel alerts, pulling another. "Just recharge. I'll be fine."

Prowl caressed Jazz's cheek. "Are you sure?"

Jazz turned gratefully into the touch, resting against his lover, field flaring out quiet gratitude. " Yes. Already feels better now that I'm not driving." He drank half the cube, saw the alert switch off, and offered the rest to Prowl.

Prowl accepted it but caught his lover's mouth in a warm, undemanding kiss full of affection before drawing away enough to down the rest. He noted with no small amount of relief that his levels were at 71% and he didn't feel ill. He could try pushing it to 73% when they got up. "Then let's recharge together. That drive was a long time not to hold you."

Jazz hummed in agreement, wanting just the same thing, as he was guided to the simple metal sheet with the thinnest of shaving mattresses to press up against his love and recharge.

It was an evening cycle that become almost ritual as they began to seek work in the industrial core of their world. Must as Prowl had anticipated, mecha physically capable of doing fine detail work were well below demand here and Jazz was quickly offered a contract of reasonable terms for his efforts. Prowl did not have such an easy time. Specialties such as his were few, and typically handed down to apprentices, not part of the open job market. So after more than a full decaorn of trying every factory and business he could find, when the foremech of a warehouse told him that he didn't have any openings Prowl wanted, but he did need labor on the dock, Prowl took it.

His first orn made him ache as much as a full-frame rebuild. It was the first time since their escape that he hadn't been able to rouse enough interest when Jazz had caressed him to respond. The second and third orns weren't much better. His fourth orn on the job had gotten him noticed by both his coworkers and the foremech when he'd quietly suggested a way to organize the dock trucks so things moved faster.

By the tenth orn he was sure he had enough credibility to make a bid for the supply apprentice position if the current one stopped showing up. The mech was a bit of a lost processor already, and it wouldn't seem too out of character for him to get worse.

He was pondering that, sitting on the berth, when Jazz walked in. He paused at the door for long enough to lock it, before he crossed over and sat next to Prowl, nuzzling him. "You look worn out," Jazz murmured. 

"I am learning to truly despise manual labor," Prowl grumbled, leaning into the contact. "It will be in the past soon, I hope."

"Mm, my sexy lover has a plan," Jazz hummed, and nipped at Prowl's jaw. He twisted at the waist, dropping his mouth down alongside Prowl's neck, kissing and nibbling as he went. His hand slid over to brush the inside of Prowl's thigh. "Too busy thinking?" he asked quietly, offering Prowl an easy out into recharge if his lover was too tired and didn't want to admit it. 

"No," Prowl turned his face towards Jazz and caught him in a warm kiss. "I have the energy for a little fun, if you'll be on top."

Jazz purred happily and pressed back into the kiss, carefully standing without breaking it and turning until he was in front of Prowl. He pulled away and knelt down in front of him, hands coming to rest inside the Praxian's knees and pushing out until his legs were spread wide. Jazz shifted forward and settled, fingers resting on the breaks between thighs and hip, slowly tracing inward, and looked up, meeting Prowl's optics as he lowered himself to pull his glossa over the spike cover in a long, slow lick. "How is this?" he asked, voice low and eager. 

"That will work very well," Prowl moaned softly and slid back to rest against back stretched arms. His optics were locked on his kneeling lover, the sight alone enough to kick his fans up a notch.

Jazz pressed his mouth to the cover and hummed, pleased with the reaction, and brought his hands in and splayed them on either side, using his thumbs to trace the panel while his fingers teased and danced over pelvic plating. "Thought about doing this all orn," he purred, engines rumbling happily in response to the pitch of the fans going up again, and drew another lick over the surface before x-venting directly over where the spike housing was hidden. 

Prowl moaned even more deeply and the panel slid open, his spike already beginning to extend.

"Delicious lover," Jazz whispered reverentially, flicking his glossa over the tip before wrapping his lips around the visible length. He rubbed the underside for a moment, then swirled around it and shifted up and back as more emerged. He kept the tip in his mouth, using his fingers to coax the rest of the length out, playing along its sides, tracing the patterns and textures up and down. 

When it was fully extended, Jazz shifted down and pressed his glossa underneath, running it slowly up the full length until he reached the top, where he started sucking, lowering his head to gradually take more into his mouth while Prowl's field blasted him with the pleasure he was causing. He felt every lick, ever suck, every surge as his intake closed around the head and made Prowl tremble.

Prowl's vents were wide open, blowing hot air all around them, even his plating loosening to vent more. He couldn't stop his hips from rolling into the pleasure, and didn't try to stop his voice. All he was careful of was to make sure it was Tansi that came out instead of Jazz as he moaned encouragement. 

It made Jazz shivered in delight to hear the sounds Prowl was making as he swallowed and massaged and pushed until his lips were pressed against the housing, then hummed around the spike, shifting the pitch slowly up in time with Prowl's gasps, feeling the tension building in his lover with every step up. 

Right as he reached the top of the scale, Jazz started to slowly lift his head and moved up and down while he reached forward to dip his fingers into the hip joints, playing along the suspension cables there, stroking them slowly. Holding the note as he swirled his glossa and pulled almost completely off, he glanced up at Prowl's face when the mech went mute.

It was tipped down, staring at him with bright optics that were past seeing, lips parted, frozen and trembling on the edge. 

Jazz lifted his head away and shifted back, drawing in cool air and rerouting it directly to exhale without passing it through the cooling systems first, carefully keeping it at the same temperature, and vented it gently over his lover's heated spike. "Not so fast, lover," he purred.

Prowl gulped down air, his frame trembling slightly and his hips jerking in protest. He didn't resist the directive despite his frame's desires to the contrary and a soft whine escaped his vocalizer before he found his voice. "So lovely, so good, don't make me wait, please, lovely, don't make me wait," he pleaded. 

Jazz smiled and took the spike in one hand, caressing it, and tilted his head, pressing his lips to the other side. "Not much longer," he promised, and trailed soft kisses up and down, trembling at the quiet keen that washed over him. "Love hearing your pleasure," he murmured, holding for a moment while his thumb circled the tip and he flicked his optics up to the bliss-washed features of his panting mate. He grinned, pressed another kiss, and started to rub with his hand while he lifted his head to mouth at the tip.

He'd barely closed his lips around it when Prowl's hips jerked up with a gasping keen, every fiber of his frame alight with the charge. Jazz chuckled and purred while he sucked and swirled his glossa around, keeping the movement slow and even. He circled his fingers around the base, twisted his wrist, and pressed one more kiss to the heated, thrumming metal, lingering there for a long moment as his optics flickered off and he savored the touch and the opportunity to worship this intimate part of his lover. He could happily spend the rest of his life getting down on his knees to pleasure this spike, bringing Prowl to the highest heights of pleasure he knew how to give. "Want to taste you," Jazz breathed, exhaling hot air over the quivering length, then wrapped his mouth fully around his lover and dipped down in one smooth motion, bringing him into the rippling intake and swallowing around him.

It was all Prowl could take. His frame arched and bucked, thrusting into that intense pleasure. "Tansi!" he screamed, lost in the overload that was hard enough to drop him offline.

Jazz swallowed and stayed motionless until he felt Prowl's frame still, then carefully pulled off, keeping his lips tight to keep his lover's spike clean before it slid back into its housing. He licked his lips, frame humming with pleasure, and carefully moved Prowl's legs up onto the berth before crawling in with him and curling up. 

He tucked himself around his mate's frame, more than happy to follow him into recharge, as tired as he was. Now that he wasn't focusing on Prowl, the painful thrumming against the bond flared back up to his attention, and Jazz tried to push it aside by focusing in on the newsparks. 

Comforted by their presence, and by the warm frame next to him, Jazz cycled down into a deep recharge.

* * *

Prowl was barely a joor into his shift at the docks when he heard someone yelling and looked up at the unloading dock on the supply warehouse to see the foremech, Ostati, waving his hands at something he couldn't see. 

He could definitely hear what he was saying, though. 

"That lazy, no-good absentee Turnover! I've had it! I don't have enough time in the orn to deal with this slag, that's _why_ we pay an apprentice supply manager!" 

There was a reply, too muffled for Prowl to hear, and he turned back to the blue and yellow grounder who was transformed into his alt. mode, to push another crate into the hauling bed. 

"Foremech doesn't sound happy," said the soft voice of the blue and red worker next to him. 

"Turnover's been late or gone more than not this last decaorn," the hauler rumbled. "Two orns ago we didn't get any steel in the shipment--Ostati blew a gasket."

"No doubt," Prowl faked mild surprise before he latched the cargo in and patted the side of the vehicle and the hauler rolled away. He knew what orns the mech was late, and which he never arrived. He even knew what not even Turnover knew: why. He was the reason the steel was missing. He couldn't have done it if Turnover hadn't already been unworthy of his position, but the mech made it entirely too easy to make him go missing and late enough to anger his superiors enough to be rid of him eventually.

"Susun!" the foremech bellowed.

"Sir?" Prowl focused on the mech who had stalked to the dock, then followed at the sharp motion.

As soon as he stepped onto the platform, Prowl saw the problem. The ground shipment had arrived, and it was _giant_. Far more than anything they should have received this orn. And, as Prowl looked closer, he noted that every single box had the same thing label. Bolts. Something they probably needed less than one crate of right now, he calculated quickly. 

"You're hired," Ostati growled, and gestured at the pile. "This is all that arrived today. Deal with this mess and get everything straightened out."

"Yes sir," Prowl nodded and quickly logged in with the passcode Ostati databurst him. He had it all worked out in his processors in under a klik. He spent the next half klik working out just how long he should take to appear competent but not so good that he raised suspicions, and spent the next several breems playing a real-time planet-wide game in his processors while he physically checked each box to make sure the label matched the contents.

Just because he'd arranged it didn't mean he trusted the mecha at the other end. He'd always been hands-on in running an estate and he saw no reason to stop the behavior now.

Ostati watched him working, hands balled into fists which rested on his hips. "Good," he finally said, calming down, and nodded. "Well, good, then. I've let Turnover go, he's been more trouble than it's worth, and that's even when he's been here." He sent a second databurst. "This is your new schedule. Come see me when you're done, we'll finalize your contract and go over your new duties and pay grade."

"Yes, sir," Prowl acknowledged the order smoothly, grateful beyond words to be off manual labor but careful not to let it show too much. That he'd get a significant raise out of this was just a bonus. His frame and processors both relaxed at the prospect of more suitable work.

* * *

Prowl was skimming over the last datapad of the orn, on his fourth reread while he pretended to check its contents against the warehouse inventory, when he heard steps behind him and looked up to see the bright pink form of one of the femmes that he'd worked with on the docks.

"Hey, Susun, when you're finished with that, you want to come out for a drink with everyone?" Ariel smiled warmly at him. "We haven't celebrated your hiring or promotion yet."

Prowl hummed thoughtfully, then nodded. "Perhaps my mate can join us? I would like him to socialize a bit more."

"That would be wonderful," her smile brightened even more.

"Then give me a breem and a half, if you can?" Prowl asked, needing to make a show of being a good employee, rather than one gifted too much for the job he had.

"Sure," she waved as she turned around. "I'll pass the word. Meet you both at The Happy Place."

"We will be there," Prowl promised, immediately shifting to going over all the social connections between mecha that should be there while he faked reading and pinged Jazz's comm.

::Susun?:: came the immediate and somewhat concerned reply. Prowl didn't normally comm while he was at work.

::It's all right love. We've been invited to The Happy Place for drinks, to celebrate my promotion. I'd like you to come.::

There was a brief pause, and then, ::All right. When?::

::End of shift. I'll meet you and we can drive together,:: Prowl decided, as aware of his mate's schedule as his own. ::See you then?::

He received an affirmative ping as a reply before the connection cut. He refocused on the datapad, decided he had spent enough time looking at it, signed it, and headed up to the foremech's office to turn it in. He did a last wireless sweep of the orders and schedules in place for the next orn before signing out and walking to where he'd meet Jazz at the end of the other mech's shift.

Jazz was not long in arriving and he greeted Prowl with a brief smile and reserved posture, then a slight squeak of surprise when Prowl pulled him into an embrace and fiercely possessive kiss that earned more than a few calls for them to do more.

When he caught his reeling senses, Jazz glancing around at all the other mecha traveling along the same route away from the factory. "Where is this place?"

"Not far," Prowl assured him as he let go, stepped back and transformed. "It is the favored drinking establishment for the dock workers, among others."

"I could really use the energon," Jazz admitted before transforming down next his mate and following him. 

It really was just a few kliks up the road before Prowl pulled off to the side and transformed in front of a medium-sized building, all brushed steel outside with colored lights bordering every window. Jazz stepped very close to Prowl and stuck next to him as they walked inside. He welcomed it when Prowl wrapped an arm around his waist.

It was loud, dim, and within moments, there was a shout of greeting from a corner table. "Susun! Over here!"

Prowl nudged Jazz towards that table and greeted the dozen-odd mecha there before claiming the last two empty seats as he began the introductions. His crew and the two other mates who worked elsewhere didn't know Jazz, and Jazz only knew a little of them, but Prowl was confident that they'd be nice enough to his under-socialized and shy mate. If for no other reason than respect for the living Pit he could make of their work lives if he was angry enough.

Jazz smiled warmly at each of them as they were introduced, falling back on an expression that recalled Prowl immediately to the former noble's mechling orns, whenever he was introduced to important guests and friends of his creators. Even his relaxed pose, leaned back in the chair, one hand on the back of Prowl's neck, was reminiscent of dinner events. Jazz was making a point of who he belonged to, that he wasn't available, but he was going to be sociable. In reply Prowl kept an arm around him and relaxed into the touch, giving more lower-caste signals of their status.

"For you, sirs?" came the friendly voice of a service mech with a pair of extra arm attachments.

"Standard," Prowl answered for them both.

Jazz pushed a grateful flicker into his field and tilted his head to nuzzle against Prowl's helm for a moment before straightening again. 

"Y'all're new to Tyger Pax, ain't'cha?" one of the other laborers drawled. "How're ya findin' it so far?"

"It's agreeable," Prowl responded easily, well aware of his lover's tendency to be silent while nervous. "Easier to get work than other cities we've been through."

The laborer gave a short grunt while other murmurs of agreement rippled around the table. They were all well aware of how much below his station the dock work that Prowl had first accepted was, and how much effort he'd put into doing well enough to keep it. Even those that had first thought he was just lucky to get promoted had realized by now that Prowl was _good_ at organizing and their work was so much easier when he was doing his.

"I've seen mecha turn buymech just for want of energon," one of the haulers was saying, shaking his head. "Not enough work for commoners anymore." He paused while the server came back to set down Prowl and Jazz's drinks, then lowered his voice. "And even them that could make a decent living at it are having to fight with pre-prog pleasurebots who take all the good business."

Jazz lifted his cube immediately to take a long swallow, then visually paced himself, watching attentively with the occasional brief nod. He was genuinely interested from what Prowl could tell.

Prowl took a sip and cocked his helm. "There are pleasurebots on the streets now?"

"Couple of 'em, more keep showing up," the hauler said. "Nobles get sick of 'em, see, and toss 'em like so much scrap and spark a new one. And well," he shrugged. "At least they don't last long if they can't find work. Get a bit glitched when they don't have their function anymore."

Prowl made a sad, understanding hum. "It's a horrible way to go, glitching for lack your function."

"You got lucky, didn't you?" Ariel suddenly said, earning surprised looks from several co-workers. "You aren't just good with numbers, it's what you _do_."

Prowl nodded slightly. "I'm not as locked as a pre-prog, but it's not ... pleasant ... to have work where I don't have enough to think about."

"What about you?" Ariel looked at Jazz. "Do you like the city, your work?"

"I find one tolerable and the other enjoyable," Jazz said, and gave a brief grin. "Though you will have to guess which is which." His grip on the back of Prowl's neck tightened slightly, nervously, though nothing else in his demeanor changed. 

It earned him a few chuckles and the grip relaxed again as he took another deep swallow from his drink, finishing it. He looked around and caught the optic of the serving bot, lifting the empty cube for him to see before turning back to the table.

"You got some special processing plant?" another hauler cocked his helm, unable to keep himself from staring that a mech Jazz's side could down high grade so quickly and still be in full control of himself.

"Of a sort," Prowl purred, his harmonics and field rich with pride. "He's carrying our first."

Jazz smiled and hummed in real happiness, nuzzling his mate and relaxing into the gentle tug to stay against Prowl's side. "Takes more energon than I ever would have imagined," he said, and gratefully accepted the new cube. "Exhausting little thing, too." 

"No wonder you were both so eager for any work," Ariel grinned giddily, leaning against her own lover. "How long did it take? Is it as fun as normal interfacing? How did you decide who was going to carry?"

"Slow down," Jazz laughed, watching the increasingly dazed look on the laborer's face next to her. "Didn't take long, though to be honest, I wouldn't have minded if it had." He pressed his hand to Prowl's chest, smiling at Ariel. "He has an incredible spark. So yes, it's just as fun," he added with another fond nuzzle. "And I'm carrying because _I_ won that argument."

"I intend to win next time," Prowl stopped any potential objection with a kiss that made Jazz melt against him and several engines around the table rev sharply.

"How far along are you?" another mech with a mate asked, this time both of them haulers on the same dock.

"Metacycle," Jazz said, and leaned against Prowl while he started on the new cube. 

Ariel gave Jazz a warm smile and then looked at her lover with a grin that made the larger mech look for an escape route. 

"Well, welcome to the team, Susun and Tansi," the hauler next to her said, and raised his cube. At Jazz's surprised look, he grinned. "You'll find that mates tend to get sort of pulled in even if they don't actually work at the docks, the few that there are."

"Which is currently you, Tango and Pattern," Dion spoke for the first time from the other side of Orion Pax.

"Dancer at Lander's," Tango purred by way of greeting, every line of his frame perfected to be elegant seduction to these heavily built mecha. He was leaning up against one of the bulkiest laborers, who rumbled with pride. 

"I'm an architect's apprentice," Pattern added. "We specialize in the more decorative buildings, sometimes interior rooms."

"There's work here for that?" Prowl asked curiously. "This does not seem the city for it."

"If you have an engineer's aesthetic, it's around, though mostly we work for the temples and the corporate offices," Pattern explained.

Prowl nodded, relaxed and the small talk once more flowed into all things work, politics, the upcoming celebrations and the growing unrest that did, and didn't, make the newsfeeds.

When they finally left much later in the night, Jazz finally felt completely refueled for the first time in orns, but he also knew how much the high grade had cost. Under cover of darkness, he slipped his hand comfortably around Prowl's waist and pulled his lover against him, bringing him into slow kiss. "Thank you," he murmured. "I know that was expensive."

"You shouldn't be shorting yourself, love," Prowl murmured, pulling him close, his field rich with concern. "The sparklings are more important than a few credits."

Jazz pressed his face against Prowl's neck, grateful to have him to lean against. "I keep my levels high enough to keep the alarms off," he promised. "Just, at work, others start to notice if I refuel every joor, so I push it as long as I can."

"Every joor?" Prowl tried not to sound as alarmed as he was. That was nearly sixteen times what Jazz should have needed at this stage. The protoforms weren't even being built yet.

Jazz shifted uncomfortably. "I know it's a lot," he said, and he _did_ know. From his very first lessons on noble life and what would be expected of him, the carrying process had been thoroughly gone over, again and again. "The more pressure he puts on the more I need. Thankfully none of these mecha seem to know anything about carrying."

Prowl shuttered his optics briefly, sent a wave of support through his field and nodded. They fell silent, reluctantly parting to transform and drive to their small room in the huge complex. It was only after the door was closed and locked did they do more than lean close again.

"Start taking a cube or two of high grade to drink on each break," Prowl said firmly as he guided Jazz to the berth and settled next to him. "And always drink as much as you need here. We have the credits."

Jazz nodded, curled on his side, and touched their helms together and brought his fingers to the side of Prowl's face. "I'll outlast him," he said, tracing along the jawline. 

"I know you will," Prowl said with absolute conviction. His hand slid along Jazz's side. "Is that why you've been more listless lately, lower energon levels?"

"Mm. Energon level doesn't seem to matter, I'm just exhausted." Jazz smiled humorlessly. "Just as you've gotten work that doesn't completely drain you, too."

Prowl hummed in sympathetic understanding and offered a tender kiss as his hands continued to caress until one reached the dataport they favored. He circled it, his touch light even as his field expressed his concern. Jazz spiraled open at the request and reached over to Prowl's chest, taking his cable and clicking it into himself, ready with the connection initiation, cocking his head in question.

~Should I arrange for the blocker?~ Prowl asked gently as their awarenesses met.

Jazz frowned at him. ~If I have that installed, it won't come off until he's dead.~

~I know,~ Prowl said gently. ~It is not ideal, but this is excessive if it lasts for long.~

Jazz's hand came down to rest on Prowl's chest, gently tracing the seam down the middle. ~I'm not waiting that long to have your spark,~ he said, shaking his head. ~I won't.~

~After the twins migrate to their protoforms we can merge,~ Prowl offered, though he wasn't terribly sure of it. ~If you don't suffer any more loss of function from fighting him.~

~Or after they separate,~ Jazz said, shivering in anticipation of that moment. ~It'll be easier when I'm not carrying. We weren't counting on that.~

~No, we weren't,~ Prowl acknowledged with a tender kiss and gentle hands. ~I love you, Jazz.~

Jazz hummed softly, mirroring the touch. ~Love you too, Prowl.~ He looked into ice blue optics and shifted his fingers from where they had settled over Prowl's spark up to a different port on his lover's body. ~Have enough energy for this,~ he whispered. 

Prowl shivered. ~Never deny you. Want you,~ he moaned and pressed into the touch, the cover sliding open smoothly and eagerly. ~Love to hear your pleasure.~

~Love the way you make me lose everything,~ Jazz said, bringing Prowl into a slow, deep kiss, swirling their glossa together as he brought his interfacing cable forward and touched it to the offered port, slowly circling it around as he sent brief pulses of energy through, creating small static shocks between them every time the pieces touched. 

This was something else Vortex hadn't taken from them. The single time he'd used the interfacing hardline connection, the night he'd broken Jazz's seals, he'd been the one plugged into Jazz. More than that, he'd hardly paid attention to the hardline, favoring his spike as he did in all things. 

He'd left this for them, something clean and sacred. Jazz shivered in unison with Prowl as he continued to tease at the connection, tracing around it in slow, careful brushes, gradually increasing the strength of the pulses. ~Love feeling you like this,~ he whispered, and with a soft moan of anticipation, clicked into the connection. 

Prowl's deep, physical moan and rush of pleasure across the hardline the moment the connection was fully made drew a moan out of Jazz as well and he tensed against his lover, their mouths pressed hungrily together as the energy waves started to pulse back and forth. With no warning Prowl rolled forward, pushing Jazz to his back and settling over him without breaking the kiss. Energy flared and pulsed between them, sharp and eager and hot, filling their frames. With each exchange Prowl sent image-sensation packets, scenes of them together, some memories, others hopes. One most often repeated was Prowl's spike buried deep inside Jazz's valve while their sparks merged in a blinding bliss. Prowl _wanted_ him, deeply, on a level far beyond any logic or reason, and he was no longer denying it on any level.

Jazz groaned, the sound coming from deep in his chassis, a full-frame shudder that just didn't stop as the charged pulses echoed and fed back off each other, looping in a continuous, endless, ecstatic connection. Jazz sent his memory of the power he'd seen in Prowl's spark, but in this image, it was him completely at his lover's mercy. Bared open, hiding nothing, loving and accepting everything that Prowl was without question or doubt, and the joy he felt knowing it was returned. 

Physical touch, the strokes, the deep kiss, gradually slowed and then stilled almost completely as the heat in their frames grew from the ricocheting waves of energy that took over their awareness, making them tremble helplessly in its grip. Prowl sank down over Jazz, whose optics flickered with rapid charge, holding him and gasping in desperate ecstasy that was returned in kind, rising with every passing nanoklik until it reached a crest--it was too much--they couldn't hold any more--

~Jazz!~ Prowl's internal keen was overlaid with a physical roar of "Tansi!" for anyone to hear as the overload reached critical, flooding every system he had with bliss and then spilled back over into his lover, who arched up beneath him, keening sharply. Prowl was proud of the mech he loved, proud that they were together, proud that they had creations to raise together. He never hid that or their pleasure, only what their original designations were.

It still filled Jazz with bliss he couldn't begin to understand that Prowl felt anything towards him that wasn't revulsion or fear, and knowing that it was _love_ and _pride_ and feeling it all washing over the hardline, soaking into field, hearing it in his voice and his internal cry... Jazz sobbed against him, echoing with a rapturous ~Prowl!~ while he shouted the cover designation, riding each wave of overload, shaking when they crested, gasping in the lulls. 

Very slowly, the waves tapered and they sank down together, shudders turning into shivers. Jazz pulled Prowl back into the forgotten kiss with trembling fingers.

~Love you,~ Prowl murmured as he welcomed the kiss, dazed by the overload and warmed by how welcomed he was in his lover's frame by any method. ~Never want to recharge without you close.~

~Neither do I,~ Jazz said, exhausted, awareness starting to slip away. He pushed gently, rolling Prowl back onto his side, and curled with him. ~Love you,~ he murmured, before slipping offline into deep, needed recharge.

* * *

Two decaorns later Prowl was anticipating taking his time bringing his lover to a few sweet, tender overloads before they recharged. He knew Jazz had been tired lately, but it would be good for the newsparks, and honestly, pretty useful for both mecha too. The further in the carry Jazz got, the harder it seemed to be for him and it had Prowl worried. The sum total of publicly accessible knowledge of twin carries wasn't much more than what they already knew from experience. By all rights they should have taken advantage of the rareness to gain much better medical care. The Prime Medical Center in Iacon and the Praxian Wings Medical Center both had a standing offer to transport and pay the residence and medical costs of any grounder with twins until the sparklings were separated and deemed healthy. After that there were other offers with much the same cost: credits and care in exchange for access to study the rare event. Yet it was that same rareness that made it too dangerous to try. Vortex's agents would undoubtedly be watching both places for them.

He tossed such thoughts into the deletion spool and palmed the door open.

Jazz was already home, sitting on the berth, holding an energon cube with his head tilted back, already most of the way through it. He paused at the sound of the door and managed to pause long enough to give Prowl a smile, making no move to stand to greet his lover, and went back to drinking a moment later. 

All thought of interfacing fled Prowl at the sight. He closed the distance and knelt on the berth, his complete focus on the frame and field of his love. "Tansi? Are you all right? Did something happen?"

Jazz looked at him, a little surprised, and subspaced the cube to run his fingers over Prowl's helm. "I'm fine, nothing happened," he said, pressing his field out reassuringly and accepting the sharp tang of relief from his lover. Prowl leaned in to kiss him gently, then backed off enough so Jazz could finish his energon.

"How many more do you need tonight?" Prowl asked gently, intent on being the one to fetch them from the small supply of quality jet high grade they kept in the room.

Jazz finished the cube he was currently working on and took a moment to watch his energy levels, then shook his head and nuzzled his mate. "That was the last of it," he said. He felt Prowl's shock before it reached his frame. Pale blue optics turned to look at him before the kiss came, gentle and caring.

"I've always got a few cubes on me," Prowl murmured. "I'll buy more when you're in recharge tonight. How much to top off so you recharge well?"

Jazz broke the kiss and leaned heavily against Prowl, shifting uncomfortably as his hand went up to his chest. "Alarms are off, I should be fine..." 

"I told you to keep your tanks full. 100% energy, primary and reserve tank before recharge," Prowl said seriously as he pulled out a jet high grade cube. "Drink what you need to completely fill up. We have the credits for it."

With a hesitant sigh Jazz took the cube and began to sip it, entirely too aware that each one contained the energy equivalent of around nine cubes of regular grounder energon and he was now burning through close to two-thirds of one per joor. From one cube per joor to six in two decaorns. Something he hadn't really told his lover, but the empty storage compartment was a clear sign of it. Vortex was draining him too effectively.

"Love, please, please never short yourself." Prowl's tone was pleading.

"I'm trying," Jazz said wearily, between swallows. "This has to be eating through the savings, Susun. I would be fine at 90%, so would the sparkling."

There was an uneasy waver, but Prowl nodded. "So long as you never drop below 70%, all right? If that means drinking on the job, so be it. Yes, it is expensive, but your health can not be risked. You retain more of the energy this way. It costs less energy for you to process."

"The lowest it's been in decaorns is 80%," Jazz said, watching his meter, taking one more sip and subspacing the cube for his morning refuel. "I won't let it go below that." 

"Thank you," Prowl sighed in relief.

Jazz tugged as he shifted back onto the berth, asking Prowl to lay down with him. "Does anyone find it suspicious that a grounder buys this much jet high grade?"

"Mmm, I was asked a couple times, but I just say my mate's an Aerial and carrying," Prowl murmured into a kiss as his amorous thoughts from earlier came back. "I get it far enough away that no one knows who my mate is."

"Good," Jazz sighed, slumping a little as that worry was resolved, optics dimming as he pressed in close to Prowl. 

"Love?" Prowl stilled, then brushed against a dataport so they could talk securely and openly. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Jazz murmured, the port spiraling open more out of reflex than anything else. There was a wash of affection and concern when Prowl connected, but also the residual desire he'd walked in with.

~Is he really that draining to keep out, or is it having twins?~ Prowl's concern was open but tender.

~I can't tell anymore. It has to be him...there's this _pressure_ that never stops.~ In here, Jazz's voice sounded more broken than it did when he was speaking, and there was absolutely no response to the arousal, not even an acknowledgement of its presence.

Prowl knew very well that his lover was incapable of saying no to interface, something he tried very hard to not take advantage of when Jazz was too tired, and for there to not be even a hint of response...

~Jazz, love, I am going to order a bond blocker for you,~ Prowl said firmly, willing to fight him on this because it was for Jazz's protection. ~I know it's not what we want, but it's what we need to do.~

There was a flicker of disappointment, a short, harsh x-vent, and Jazz's fingers tightened around Prowl's arm, but more than anything, there was a defeated resignation in his field and over the hardline.

~I am sorry, my love. I'm so sorry I couldn't kill him. We couldn't last that long. Neither of us could. The blocker is not forever. I promise you.~

~I know,~ Jazz whispered, drawing an unsteady intake. ~We survived worse,~ he said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of that.

~We have. We will survive this. We will raise our sparklings to be good mecha,~ Prowl said. ~Leave it to me. I will make it happen.~

~Yes,~ Jazz murmured, and almost before the glyph was even finished sending, had slipped into recharge.


	14. Last Resorts

Prowl looked around the warehouse, doing a final unnecessary confirmation that everything was in good order, and logged out of the inventory systems. 

Jazz's last shift had been the previous orn, and his mate had been recharging in their small apartment since then, trying to gather as much of his strength as he could for the drive to Crystal City. He operated best the quarter orn following recharge, and had worked out a schedule with his boss for the last three decaorn that allowed him to break his shift into two parts with a longer recharge break in the middle. The mech had been agreeable--Jazz was a quick worker when he wasn't too worn out--and had even told Jazz that if he had an opening when they got back to Tyger Pax, it was his. Prowl's position was guaranteed, the foremech had all but begged him not to leave for even a short while. 

"Susun! Hey, Susun!" 

Prowl turned and saw the now-familiar pink femme running towards him, waving her hand. He stopped and waited. 

"I heard someone say you're quitting?" she asked, looking pleadingly at him. "Is it the pay? I'm sure Ostati will give you a bonus, things haven't run this smooth in forever!"

"Nothing of the sort," Prowl assured her. "I hope to be back in a decaorn or two. Tansi's carry is a very difficult one and we need to visit a specialist in Iacon. I was warned that the testing and treatment, whatever it is, may take time. We intend to return when he is healthy again."

Her optics spiraled wide. "Oh, I didn't know, I'm so sorry," she said, and touched his shoulder with a sympathetic field. "They'll be all right, though, Tansi and the sparkling?"

"That is our hope," Prowl nodded, accepting her sympathy with warm thanks. "It's a long drive and a heavy debt otherwise. I can't lose them."

Ariel smiled warmly at him. "You make sure you come back," she said. "I can't wait to meet that sparkling, seems like no one has sparklings anymore." She sighed, shaking her head. "I'd love a sparkling but Orion goes on about how we need to wait until the economy starts to get better and how we have a responsibility to make the best life we can for any creations. I say now or never, you two are doing it right."

"I'm not one to meddle in the affairs of others, but you have the income to raise a sparkling well, if you are careful and continue to work hard," Prowl smiled at her. "There are too few sparklings, but there is too little work," he shook his helm. "I hope things work out for you and Orion as well. It would be nice for ours to have a playmate, if you win this argument." He gave her an honest, though stressed smile. "I need to go now. Tansi can only travel a few joors before resting and refueling. We need to make the most of it."

She hugged him. "Well travel safe, all three of you," she said, and stepped back to give him a stern look. "And you come back soon."

"We will see you when we can," Prowl promised without promising anything and transformed to gather his love for the painfully slow journey to Crystal City where Mucit would install the spark bond blocker. If all went well, they'd be back in a decaorn or less. If it didn't, they wouldn't be back for centuries, and never as Susun and Tansi.

He drove quickly to their apartment complex, though careful to remain within the law. The last thing he needed right now was to be pulled over and ticketed, or worse.

Jazz was starting to rouse by the time he returned and had gotten his first cube of jet high grade out. He subspaced the half that was left when Prowl walked in and stretched before rising to greet his mate with a kiss that was returned with arousal, stress and warm relief.

"I have a job when we return," Prowl murmured when they parted, though it was only enough to rest their helms together in the ancient greeting and intimacy from a time when their kind did not yet wear armor. "This apartment will be held. It's good here."

Jazz smiled and hummed. "It is good here," he said, echoing flickers of arousal, love, and welcome in his field. "I'm ready."

With a final quick kiss, Prowl turned and lead his love to the street and towards the main thoroughfare towards the northern territories. Towards Iacon.

Once away from the city they followed a simple turnaround on a smaller avenue that cut past Tyger Pax's limits, through a residency, and then joined up with the much larger highway that would take them southeast to Crystal City.

* * *

Eleven orns.

It was the longest drive Jazz could recall. It would have been half that or less if they hadn't had to stop so many times an orn for him to rest. Sometimes the best they could do was pull to the side of the road and he'd recharge in alt mode while Prowl stood watch. Most of the time Prowl found them a berth, even if it wasn't much of one.

Right now they were in one of the nicer rooms they'd rented on the journey. Nicer because they both needed the recharge and refueling very badly after so much driving and then shifting to new forms. This time they were both mid-sized grounders again, but with the more elegant lines that Crystal City favored so they wouldn't stand out here. Even Prowl wanted nothing more than to drop into recharge when his frame settled. Jazz was happy to go with that thought.

Now Jazz was reluctantly rousing from recharge, not by an alarm or for energon, but by the nuzzling and gentle strokes of his lover.

He answered with a soft hum as his vocalizer booted up. The next stretch of the journey would be their last, and time wasn't as pressing of an issue as it had been when they'd first started out. 

His optics flickered on and he immediately looked for the familiar optics in the new face, armor warming under the soft touches as he nuzzled back in greeting. The nuzzle turned into a kiss as Prowl's hand slid up to caress over his spark.

"Have enough energy to be pleasured?" Prowl purred softly.

Jazz shivered under the touch. He could still feel Vortex and whatever the Pit-spawned rotor was doing to the blocks, but right after recharge when his energy was at its highest, Jazz could almost pretend like he wasn't there sometimes. And if Prowl was distracting him... even better. 

"I still think this is your way of getting me used to the new frames as quickly as possible without me realizing that it's productive," he teased, shifting and pressing their thighs together.

"So long as it works," Prowl chuckled, a deep resonance washing over Jazz as hands worked lower. "Should I take your valve, or do you want mine?" he trilled seductively.

Jazz made a bit of a show of thinking the question over while his fingers roamed over Prowl's chassis, exploring the new pale blue armor, so much sleeker than his previous build. He pulled one of his legs up and wrapped it around Prowl's and tugged, rolling, bring his lover over him into a straddle around his hips, which he pushed up briefly as he let his spike cover snap back. "Why don't you ride me?" he asked in a deep purr.

Prowl shivered with a hot flare of desire. He could already feel the lubricant begin to ooze from his valve lining, eager to be stretched and rubbed by this particular spike. Without hesitation he leaned forward to claim a heated kiss. His valve cover slid open and he eagerly rubbed his platelets along that amazingly ruffled spike. His valve clenched eagerly at the reminder of what it felt like.

"Take me, fill me," Prowl whispered hungrily. "I never tire of feeling you inside me, around me, gasping and moaning because of my frame."

"Aah, lover," Jazz gasped and bucked up into the slick, caressing platelets, his spike pressurizing the rest of the way in a matter of nanokliks, sliding easily up into the welcoming heat. He lifted his knees and braced himself against the berth, hands on Prowl's hips as he pushed up in a short, quick thrust, then another, moaning at the way his lover clenched around him. Each ruffle was gripped, held until it was pulled through one exquisite circle after another.

"Oh, my sweet, so good," Prowl moaned, rippling the calipers and lining of his valve around those wonderful ruffles. He arched his back, driving his hips down to take his lover in deeper. "Never want this to end. Never want to let go. You feel so good."

"Love that I can make you feel good," Jazz said, helm falling back onto the berth as he gripped and pushed, plating loosening to help expel the quickly building heat. "Frag," he gasped, at a tight, slick pull that made him shudder and almost lose himself right then. He buried and held for a moment, panting heavily, before slipping back out to set a slower pace. 

Travel had had very little time for anything other than recharge and a few quick hardline overloads, and he didn't think this was going to last much longer. Not with the way Prowl was moaning over him, not with the way his spike was being caressed by talented, rippling walls. 

Definitely not now that Prowl's shuddering lift and roll of his hips was bringing the first light zap of a charge to the light blue frame.

"Love, lover, fill me," Prowl moaned, completely shameless because of how much he knew it turned Jazz on. "Please. Want to feel that thick, hot rush before I overload. Want to feel how good it is for you."

Jazz whined and shook, his hips jerking up into each new push, faster, while his frame started to crackle with energy. "So good," he gasped. "It's so good, love you, love this, I--" He broke off with a sharp groan, coherency fleeing him before he shouted and with a hard push, strong enough to lift his hips off the berth, shot into Prowl with a joyful, gasping sob. 

Above him Prowl nearly coiled around him, driving his hips back into each burst of transfluid with a keening scream of bliss until his frame locked up along with his lover's.

They were both still gasping and shivering from aftershocks when they regained enough control to sink against each other.

"Missed that," Prowl murmured against Jazz's audial. "Missed your passion so much. Missed giving you pleasure. Missed strengthening our creations."

"Me too," Jazz said, his frame gradually cooling. He wrapped his arms around his lover and nuzzling. "Soon it will be whenever we want." 

"None too soon," Prowl sighed in contentment of the moment, stealing the few kliks of absolute peace they had wrapped in each other's embrace. It was still too soon when they parted, knowing they had to clean up and leave the room to lock Jazz's spark away for a very long time.

* * *

They were just reaching the outer limits of Crystal City and Jazz was watching the distance to the next hotel that Prowl had selected, noting the one they'd be staying at for several orns was nicer than what they'd had on the road. It probably had a genuine padded berth. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd be able to make it that far when the heavy pressure he'd been feeling on the block for decacycles now shifted, morphed, and turned into a deep, vibrating _thrum_ that echoed through him and left him reeling. 

A moment later and before he could fully grab his senses back, something _struck_ , something hard and sharp and piercing, fueled by a terrible, scathing rage. It reeked of jealousy, hatred, and an eagerness to _destroy_. 

It was enough to shock Jazz out of his alt mode and he transformed into a screeching skid in the middle of the crowded road, sliding hard enough to scratch away his finish. He heard a yell from behind him, used the last of his senses to stumble to the side and hit the rails that bordered the road on either side, and collapsed, grabbing at his spark and using every last bit of energy he had to hold the block. They needed to be in Crystal City for as long as a decaorn, that wasn't a choice, and if it broke they would be forced to run.

Prowl was there, fear for Jazz alive in his field as he shielded his lover with his own frame. Jazz wasn't even aware of Prowl plugging in until he heard his love's sharp curse right in his processors.

~Lean on me,~ Prowl's voice was an order as he pulled Jazz to his pedes and pulled, pushed and dragged him towards a side road where there was less traffic. Then into an alley. Jazz was barely aware that Prowl had huddled them in a small, barricaded entryway. It shielded them from sight and from the enforcers that were sure to come.

As soon as Prowl deemed them safe for the moment, he turned his full processor and will to shoring up Jazz's crumbling defenses.

~Hurts,~ Jazz gasped, then hissed sharply as he struggled back up against the block, using Prowl's strength to reinforce it. ~He timed this--he's been draining me for this,~ he realized, growling deep in his chassis. 

The initial unfocused rage, then the quiet, then the decaorns of steady pressure that had increased slowly, so slowly he almost hadn't noticed until he was too tired to make it through an entire shift. His systems had been strained, the newsparks had been endangered, all so Vortex could weaken him enough to break through with a focused attack. 

But Vortex hadn't accounted for Prowl. Jazz growled again, taking what Prowl offered, working alongside him, pushing back until the block was steady and holding, then slumped. 

~He'll never get another chance,~ Prowl said firmly. ~As soon as the blocker is in place, it will be as if you deactivated to him.~

Jazz shuddered, gripping Prowl tightly as he gradually regained some awareness of where they were, then hissed and winced when another strike came, just as strong as the first. This time he was expecting it, and with Prowl's processors still peripheral to his it was easier to hold. ~He isn't going to stop until then.~

~This makes me very glad we had this mod already planned,~ Prowl murmured, holding his lover close. ~This would be so much harder to hold for longer than we already have to. Can you stand, walk?~

~Yes,~ Jazz said, looking around. ~I can drive, but slowly would be best.~ He checked the location of the hotel against where they were and sighed. What little distance remained looked painfully far right now.

Prowl nodded and helped him stand as he logged into the local datanet and pulled up all the low-traffic routes to their destination. ~Energon?~ he offered on reflex.

Jazz pulled a cube in what had long become an automatic response to that question and drank until his levels were better, then started out with Prowl on the very slow route to their hotel.

* * *

Three orns of struggling to keep Vortex at bay, the block only moments from failure even with Prowl's constant support, left them both shadows of the mecha they were when rested and fueled. Not even Prowl knew how much energon they'd gone through. Jazz was a dazed, shaking mess at the best of times in the joors before there was a heavy knock on the room's outside door.

~I'll answer,~ Prowl whispered, reluctant to unplug but knowing that he had to. He had to answer the door.

Jazz flickered acceptance, barely able to spare the processor power for just that, with everything he had going to focusing on keeping the attacker out. He was no more aware of what Prowl did only a few paces away, or even when Prowl plugged back in except for the sudden relief of having that much more to use to keep the block up.

Movement. He was moving. Prowl was carrying him.

~We're going to get the blocker installed now. Just a few more joors.~ Prowl's promise was whispered with all the desperate hope that spoke of exactly how bad the situation was.

More movement followed after that, barely noticeable beyond the strong, sharpened attacks and how close he felt he was to shattering. The warrior mecha he'd studied had all had willing bondeds, who would put their own blocks up, to shield them from the pain and trauma of battle. None of them had faced an enraged will like this one. One that was probably being instructed by the best his credits could afford. 

He was aware of the times Prowl tipped energon into his mouth only because of the rush of strength that came with it, though it never lasted long enough. In the few moments when he was completely energized, he could online his optics and see the inside of a transport and feel how fast they were moving, but it only lasted for a klik or so. 

The movement stopped, changed, there was energon, and Jazz heard a familiar and comforting voice he distantly realized was Mucit.

"How long as he been like this?" Wheeljack's voice came from the background, but was directed over him.

"At this level, three orns," Prowl responded, his own voice weak. "I've supported him as much as I can, kept energon in him, but now you know why there was the sudden rush."

"Yes, he is in very bad shape," Mucit acknowledged. "I'll have to do the install with him fully aware. Or as fully aware as he is now."

That was the last thing Jazz heard before his energon levels dipped too low to spare any of them on external senses and he shifted back in, shouldering up against the block, feeling Prowl wrap around him and offer his strength. Dimly Jazz was aware that Prowl was draining almost as fast as he was. 

~Soon,~ Jazz managed. For both of them, it had to be soon.

~Very soon,~ Prowl promised. ~You focus on the bond. Let me protect you from your frame.~

Movement again, and then the relief of energon, but this time, it wasn't from Prowl. Jazz switched his optics on and looked to see a line that was hooking right into his neck, then turned his gaze towards Prowl and the taller inventor standing next to him. 

"There he is," Wheeljack said, helm fins glowing in a soft, soothing blue. "Sorry, can't go into stasis for this one, but it shouldn't hurt." 

Jazz managed a nod, looking back at Prowl. 

"Lean on me as much as you need to, but my primary duty will be to keep your frame from distracting you," Prowl spoke out loud for them all to hear. "When it's installed, my duty is to keep you focused enough that you don't go into shock and lose the twins."

"If we're all ready?" Mucit looked between them as Wheeljack lifted a black crystal cage. "That will encase your spark chamber. It is tuned to your spark frequency to prevent any of your energy from leaving."

~I should have agreed to this before,~ Jazz whispered apologetically while nodding. The energon drip felt _so good_ on overtaxed systems that were burning through the fuel almost as soon as it hit them. 

His chest split open, revealing the chamber beneath, and Mucit lifted up higher so he could look down. He reached in to touch and test the outer casing. "Running so hot. Amazed he's managed this long," he murmured as he examined what he was working with more closely. A quick flick of his fingers against hidden controls brought the spark chamber up into position to merge, but didn't open it. "I'm going to do this as quickly as I can," he promised as he reached for the black crystal lattice to fit it around Jazz's chamber.

Almost instantly the universe went sideways for Jazz. It didn't hurt, not exactly, but the _absence_ was enough to draw a shocked keen from him. Prowl was there immediately, centering and focusing him before panic could set in, forcefully grabbing his attention and holding it. 

"It's all right," Mucit said calmly, his gaze and his fingers unwavering. "You will get used to this." He tilted his head and held his hand out to Wheeljack, who handed him a small tool, made from the same black crystal with one flat end and the other hooked. "A spark bond," the inventor said, keeping his voice soft and low, "Is a physical connection between two sparks...almost like a very, very small wormhole that forms between them, which is what you've blocked. You placed an energy shield on your end, and from the other, it's being attacked with very precise energy pulses."

Jazz focused on the voice while he kept his optics on Prowl, who looked back and pulsed reassurance over the hardline and in his field. 

Mucit reached around and hooked the blocker, slowly pulling it closed. "The blocker will take the place of that shield," he continued, "With the benefit of not using your personal energy. We grew this to match and disrupt your exact spark frequency. Nothing will get in or out." 

"The twins," Jazz rasped. They were still newsparks around his spark. "What about them?"

"As long as they are physically connected to your systems it should not cause them any problems. Though it has never been tested on a carrier. These are rarely used as it is," Mucit admitted. "It is possible they will have stunted growth once they enter their protoforms. Unlikely, since your frame is still nourishing them. Possible though."

~We'll make it work,~ Prowl murmured silently, still focused on his tasks even though Jazz no longer needed to block the bond. He didn't even realize he was wavering until strong hands gripped him, then braced him against Wheeljack's sturdy frame in a half embrace while a cube of energon was pressed to his mouth. He drank automatically and felt a little more stable.

"You're almost as worn out as he is," the younger inventor said quietly.

"It's taken everything we both had to last this long," Prowl managed.

"I'm not surprised," Mucit said, hooking and latching the intricate lattice into place. It was careful, precise work that his small fingers were perfectly suited for, and he moved carefully through the connections. After he brought the last one into place he held the tool he was working with back to Wheeljack, who switched it out with a small black torch. Mucit flicked it on and reached out to hold it to the crystal cage.

The sight of a torch that close to his exposed chamber caused Jazz to jerk away in a sudden panic. Mucit cursed sharply and pulled his hand away in time to keep the flame from touching anything delicate, and looked up at the panic-white optics of his patient, who had scrambled to grab his lover, who was in turn trying, very unsuccessfully, to stop him from moving. Panic made Jazz far stronger and faster than his still under-powered lover.

Mucit waited until Jazz had stopped moving, his chest protected against Prowl's, but it was Prowl who managed to speak first, watching the torch just as warily as his lover. "Would it be safe for him to be in stasis now? Even knowing what you were doing is unlikely to help him hold still."

"Yes, the blocker is in place. He no longer needs to be aware enough to hold the block," Mucit nodded, pleased that he didn't have to suggest it. It would go over so much better coming from a mate.

Jazz gave a shaky nod, optics never leaving the torch, even though Mucit had flicked it off by now. "Sorry," he managed. "It's just." He very slowly released Prowl from the hold he'd grabbed him in.

"It is a reflex to protect your spark," Wheeljack's fins flashed a reassuring blue.

~Lay down, love. I will protect you,~ Prowl promised, though he did nothing to try to force it, instead stroking Jazz's back gently from the protective embrace he'd reflexively given.

~And the twins,~ Jazz said, and as soon as he had Prowl's reassurance, slipped too quickly into the light recharge and then stasis that exhausted systems were all too eager for.

* * *

Jazz reached blindly for Prowl as soon as he began to boot, and only settled when he felt the familiar reassurance of his lover's peripheral systems. 

"...they migrate?" he heard in Prowl's voice when his audials came online. 

"They should be no more hampered by the blocker than they are by the chamber," Mucit answered. 

Jazz's optics flickered on and he saw all three mecha looking down at him. 

"Hello," Mucit said with a warm smile, guiding him to sit. "I need you to drop the block you've been holding and attempt to reach through the bond." 

Jazz blanched, but slowly complied, releasing the hold on the block that had become second nature. He found that before he could even try to feel for the bond, he was stopped by an even stronger force. "It's working," he said, and sank against Prowl, who was still at his side. The relief in Prowl's field was thick enough to be a physical force.

"Then we are finally free of him," Prowl's frame trembled very faintly. "He should believe you and the twins have extinguished now."

"Unless he's smart enough to realize that the death of a bonded and the subsequent break is an unpleasant experience, no matter what he feels towards you," Mucit said, stepping down from his lift. "That is up for you to decide. He might realize it's a blocker if he is educated enough on the subject."

Prowl nodded his understanding. He leaned down to kiss Jazz softly. "How do you feel?"

"Weird," Jazz said, frowning, pressing against his chest. "But anything is a relief compared to _that_." He glanced at his energy levels. "Not dropping a percentage a klik is nice." He looked up at his lover and an unmistakable mischievous flicker went over the hardline. "How are you?"

"In need of several cubes and an orn's recharge," he answered honestly. "Then eager to play."

"I think I can transform to get back if you can," Jazz said, as Wheeljack disconnected the energon drip from his neck. His energy levels were at full and remaining there. 

"You two take care," Wheeljack said as Jazz sat up.

"We intend to," Prowl inclined his helm and lead Jazz outside before transforming to drive to their new hotel room.

* * *

He'd recharged for nearly two orns, and when Jazz had finally booted, Prowl was still deep in recharge next to him and showing no signs of onlining. Jazz hadn't realized how tired his lover had been, and just how much of himself he had funneled into helping him keep the block in place. Jazz looked over the form of his recharging mate from where he was sitting next to him on the small, barely-padded berth, back against the wall. Optics bright and narrow, he'd done nothing but imagine everything he was going to do to Vortex when they had him. 

The rotor had stolen his seals, his innocence, forced him to kill, tortured and humiliated Prowl, enabled Jazz to do the same, and now he had his spark. 

A low growl formed in Jazz's throat. He didn't care how long it took, they were going to kill Vortex together. He was going to survive the bond break. His spark would be Prowl's, and he would claim the Praxian's as his own. 

But they were going to need time, and more importantly, funds, which Jazz knew they didn't have. Even if he didn't know the numbers, Prowl leading him to a questionable hotel not far from the gutters instead of the one they had originally checked into was telling enough.

It could be as easy as sneaking into the estate as servants and slipping any one of the many poisons Vortex had taught him about into his energon, but Jazz wanted so much more than that. He wanted Vortex to _suffer._ That was worth waiting for, so they could take his spark together after inflicting as much pain as he ever had. That would take time, and planning, and weapons. Like it or not, neither of them was battle trained, and the rotor had the physical advantage. 

Jazz was musing over the possibilities of creating an induced stasis and dragging the rotor from the estate to somewhere secure when he felt a soft touch on his hip. He'd been so focused inward, he hadn't heard the sound of Prowl's systems booting up. 

"How are your energy levels?" Prowl's first question was practical and focused as always. He hadn't sat up, but his optics were on and turned to look up at Jazz.

"Full," Jazz said. "I had two cubes of regular when I booted and they've barely dropped. Energy use has dropped to almost nothing compared to what it was. How are yours?"

"Steady," there was real relief in his voice. "Dropped exactly 1.7%, which is what it should have under normal recharge conditions." He somewhat reluctantly sat up and stretched, working kinks out of cables and lubricating joints. "We won't be going back to Tyger Pax until we can raise enough credits for the drive. Right now, we have enough for three orns here, and the energon we're carrying."

Jazz winced. "So little," he murmured. "I'm sure I can find work dancing, it's everywhere here."

Prowl nodded and drew Jazz close. "Be careful of what else they expect of you. The places that will take a dancer that looks like you are not going to be the ones with the nicer clients."

Jazz shifted. "I can handle rough use," he said in a low voice. "Pretty much what I was created for."

"Jazz," Prowl hissed, armor flaring in protective distress. A tremor passed down his frame before he collected himself. He gently rested his forehelm again his love's. "That should be behind you, the past. At least make them pay well to use you."

Jazz winced again at his mate's distress, then relaxed against him and nodded. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "This is all..." He trailed off and shook his helm sharply. Prowl loved him. His mate didn't care what it took to keep them safe and together, as unbelievable as that sometimes still was. He wanted Jazz's safety, not his guilt. "I will be careful if it comes to that," Jazz promised softly.

"Do you know what to charge if asked to interface, what a reasonable cut is for your boss to demand?" Prowl tried to keep his field steady. "How much you should earn to dance, and what cut he should get to keep of your tips?"

"No," Jazz said, voice thick, turning his head away. _Primus_ he was useless. "I'll find out, I can find a job at one place, ask the others who work there, and if it isn't good, I'll find somewhere else. Any income is better than none until then."

"No. Mecha get trapped by that every orn. It's better to have nothing than a debt. There's good reason that even guttermecha look down on buymecha. Guttermecha are _free_. Most buymecha aren't. It's better to steal for what we need than be in debt. We have enough mecha hunting for us. Here," he pinged a file to Jazz. "It's everything I could find on what different interfaces are worth in this city in the various areas, and the ratios you need to keep to or better with what your boss takes to stay out of debt."

Jazz nodded and stored the file after skimming it. "So what are we going to do?" he asked. "There isn't work for the untrained here, nothing like in Tyger Pax." He hesitated a moment, then, "Maybe my creators would help..." he said quietly, his disbelief in his own words clear in his field.

"No, we must remain deactivated to them," Prowl shook his helm sharply. "Better to call on my kin if we have to. They don't have much, but we don't need much now that you aren't burning through energon like a Seeker reaching escape velocity. I've already called in a lot of favors, though. I don't want to risk more if we don't have to."

"Yeah," Jazz said, then glared darkly at the berth. "They'd probably just sell me again," he muttered, distress, grief, anger, loss all warring in his field before he shook himself and replaced them all with determination. "We should start looking for jobs." 

"Before we vacate, we do have a few joors left that are paid for," Prowl leaned in to kiss him more ardently. "It's been a long time since you felt like really enjoying a long interface."

"Prowl," Jazz murmured, very softly, surprised pleasure flickering through him as he answered the kiss with his own. "I love you. No matter what, I love you," he moaned, pulling his lover down over him.

* * *

Two orns of spending their days looking for work and spending as few credits as possible in a credit-per-joor hotel to recharge, as often as not getting their rest in short stretches where one could protect the other, and they were still down to almost nothing. Jazz had managed a scant amount of credit income by joining with a few street performers who had split the pot with him at the end of the orn, after he'd demonstrated how well he could dance. It wasn't as much as an establishment would pay him per shift, but Prowl was privately pleased that his lover was dancing in the open in the artisan quarter that attracted mainly tourists, where it was very unlikely he would be propositioned by a ruffian, or at all, really.

Jazz had made barely enough for one extra night, but he was there now, and the tourist traffic should be better this orn. Prowl was leaving his dozenth business since setting out, yet another without work, or that had work he wasn't qualified for. 

He was about to go into the next one when a voice and some of the words it was saying caught his attention. He turned, taking in the black mech with dark green highlights, red glass optics. He was spiky and armored in ways that made Prowl think military, but no military mecha Prowl could think of would talk like that either. They all spoke flawless standard, at least among outsiders. This one was talking to a small group that looked local.

"...Prowl. Botnapped a young noble, designation Jazz." The black mech was showing a hologram of Prowl and Jazz as they had been when they left Central City for Kaon. "They've likely had some cosmetic work done."

The locals all shook their head at him, and the black mech just nodded understandingly. "Be on the lookout," he said. "Tell yours relations. Prowl is a dangerous hacker seeking revenge against Lord Jazz's bonded for terminating his employment after he stole from the estate, and will not stop from hurting him or the sparklings he's carrying. Twins, which may be the best way to identify Lord Jazz now. Word is they were in bad shape, likely involved in some illegal proceedings. Any suspicious pair should be reported to your local office."

The group nodded and assured him they would before they began walking again, chattering to each other about the appalling act of botnapping and terrorizing a carrier for personal gain. 

The black mech watched them go, a pleased smirk on his face, before turning to the next gathering as they were approaching. "Moment of your time, my Lords, to help bring a young carrier home..."

Prowl only just kept enough self-control to avoid a noticeable reaction before moving on to the next business. Though now he was only interested in the half-orn's work he had left. They had to be gone from Crystal City. He'd have it worked out how by the time he went to meet Jazz late in the evening.

He was deep in planning when he left the next business, still unsuccessful but with three cubes of energon past its pull date in his subspace. Its energy level would be below the legal levels, but it was free and he wasn't going to turn down energy. It was a good score for the orn and a strange reminder that good mecha still existed.

It was just in time for a reminder that there were also plenty of mecha that would take advantage of another down on his luck.

"Hey, pretty frame," a voice growled from behind him just as he turned down a smaller alley to cut over to the next main business strip. Not the safest choice, he was aware, but he had calculated the risk against the time lost to take the long way around, held it against the crime statistics for this distract, and decided to take the chance. 

But even the best calculated risks were still risks, he though idly as he turned around to see six large grounders coming out from a sheltered back entrance. He had no doubt he could outrun them in alt mode. None of them were built fast, or of the quality he was. But running meant energy, and that meant taking energon from Jazz and the twins. For now, he faced them and stood his ground as they came forward to form a loose circle around him.

Their armor was dull and scuffed and spoke of frequent fighting and low quality energon, but they held themselves with the air of those who were used to getting their way. Their fields, which came to surround him on all sides, were flaring out with clear intent and excitement. 

"What's a shiner like you doing wandering down here alone?" the largest, with an easy arm's length height advantage over Prowl, asked. As he shifted forward, Prowl was able to teek his field separately from his companions, and felt the briefest hint of restraint behind the lust.

A few fast calculations and Prowl was sure of their worth and just as sure that he could escape if he had to. He was fast and agile relative to them, even in his current state. They had no idea how fast he could move when motivated and it showed.

So instead of bolting he shifted his stance just a little, just enough to display willingness without invoking them to act on their desires. "Looking for work."

The way every single one of them gave a hard rev at his words let him know that he'd chosen his response correctly. 

"We'll work ya, if ya willin'," one to his side said, his voice a hissing rattle, and _that_ field had no restraint in it at all. The words were for show for his boss. 

"What's your price, pretty frame?" the largest rumbled, shifting eagerly on his pedes.

"A hundred each buys you a joor," Prowl began well above what he expected he could get from them.

The uproar of laughter that met his offer was expected, and Prowl's composure never wavered as the apparent ringleader bent down and got right in his face. 

"Please," he sneered. "I could get any piece of shareware aft I wanted for twenty."

"This," Prowl motioned to himself. "Is no piece of shareware you could get for twenty. Or forty," he pointed out calmly. "If that is all you have, then you have nothing to offer me for my services."

The ringleader's optics narrowed as he looked Prowl up and down, making a show out of looking like he carefully weighing his options, but they both knew he'd made his decision already. A mech in good repair like Prowl, with the extra bonus of being more than easy on the optics, was unlikely to come along very often. "Sixty," he said.

Prowl gave it plenty of consideration time, much as the leader had, though it was already above his minimum of fifty and thus accepted. "Agreed. Half up front," he extended his hand.

The grounder grabbed his hand and yanked Prowl forward hard enough to nearly pull him off his pedes. "Half up front, and you don't whine when it gets rough if you want the other half," he growled, pressing the credit sticks into his palm.

Prowl had them in his subspace faster than the mecha could follow, but he still caught the amount. 360 credits. They wanted him for two full joors. He was going to be very sore.

"Understood," Prowl answered, giving no resistance to the hand holding him.

Eager rumbles and unrestrained lust came at him from all sides and he found himself pushed, pulled, and very nearly dragged back into the darker shadows of the alley, where he was forced down onto his knees in a sludge he didn't want to think too hard about. Each arm was grabbed and yanked to the side and a hand gripped his helm, shoving his head back, forcing him optic level with the ringleader's pelvis while another grabbed his hips and yanked his aft up and back. Terror shot through him, tightening his frame until he forced himself to calm and relax. This wasn't Vortex. He had agreed to this. He'd already gotten paid enough for them to reach the nearest city.

The hard press of a thick spike against his valve cover was unmistakable, but as it slid against him, Prowl realized with no small amount of relief that the texture was smooth. It was unlikely any of these mecha had modified spikes.

Rough meant something different here than it did to Vortex, and subsequently to Prowl.

"Open up," the ringleader rumbled.

Prowl complied without hesitation, opening his mouth and valve cover. When the ringleader thrust in, he relaxed his intake, allowing the lightly textured spike to go all the way in until his lips were against the housing. Then he swallowed, rippling his intake around the large spike.

The groan he got in response told him that this mech was not at all used to this level of skill or care, and Prowl was barely trying to please him. The sound sharpened the interest from all around him and a moment later, the one behind him slammed in, stretching his valve wide and pushing him forward, crushing his face against the ringleader's plating. 

"Frag," came the gasp from behind as the heavy mech slumped forward over him, shuddering as he pulled out. "Tight valve he's got," he moaned, slamming back in force that would have dented cheaper plating. 

"And a sweet mouth," the ringleader rumbled with pleasure. The sound of spike covers unlatching and sliding away came quickly after that and the grip to Prowl's left was suddenly less one hand, and he had no doubts where it had gone.

As long as all they wanted was this, he had it easy. He cycled the calipers in his valve lightly, genuinely not that keen on overloading from them even if it was likely but very interested in getting them off quickly the first time. He swallowed around the leader again, his frame taking to this easily after all that had been done to it. It really was a lot less distressing on some levels than kindling with a mech he didn't even know the designation of.

The harsh grunt and short thrusts from behind sped up and settled in a short, quick pace that did much of the oral work for him, since all he had to do was keep relaxed and continue to swallow. The alternating timing between the two was jarring at first, but he got used to it quickly. 

Movement, on his left again, and his arm was pulled down and his fingers forcefully wrapped around a spike nearly identical to the one in his mouth. "Go on," came the eager, hissing rattle, and the metal was hot and hard to the touch. He began to stroke it without resistance, still finding this very painless for the credits. Humiliating by his old standards to be sure, but after a vorn without recharge for Vortex's amusement, it was so very easy. He could likely earn _very_ good credits this way, especially with a more attractive frame. Enough to begin investing again, and pay Mucit the rest of what they owed.

With nothing to do but pleasure three standard spikes that were doing nothing but rubbing against him or pushing into him, Prowl became almost bored with the entire thing and allowed his processor to shift to planet wide investments while his frame worked on an automatic cycle, squeezing and cycling from rote memory. 

Nothing was cutting him, poisoning him, shocking him, burning him. The grunts and moans were nothing new, and neither were the degrading insults, but they were impersonal. Filthy shareware, shameless whore, bit of shining frame. Nothing about Jazz, nothing about how did he like seeing his beloved screaming in desperate overload around a spike that wasn't his, nothing that _hurt_. 

_Nothing._

Prowl almost didn't notice the charge of overload that slammed into him from behind and rippled over his frame until the transfluid hit the back of his valve. Distracted and relaxed as he was it wasn't nearly enough to overload him, but with his frame acting as a conductor, it pushed the mech in his mouth over the edge and moments later, transfluid shot down his throat. Even between two overloading frames, it only caused a pleasant tingle in his system before the mecha both pulled out.

A new set of claws switched in around his hips and yanked, twisting his spine uncomfortably, and then an arm was wrapping around his front and lifting him upright and shoving him down onto the next spike. A shuddering groan went through the frame and then they were shifting down and Prowl found himself on his back while the spike pushed and pulled in his valve. 

The next in line loomed above him and a second spike started nudging at his valve, trying to squeeze in alongside the first. 

There was a moment of panic again before Prowl caught himself. He really was beginning to dislike the distress he felt at being restrained, even though he was fully cognizant of the cause and that it was reasonable after all he'd been through. It wasn't helping, so it was an irritant. He forced himself to relax, opening his calipers as wide as they could go. This wasn't going to be fun, but he was getting paid well for it. As long as they kept damage down to what his self-repair could handle, he was going to come out ahead.

At the next push there was a sharp stretch, the grate of metal on metal, and then an over-stretched _pull_ before the deep groan of pleasure and approval echoed from both sides and the uneven thrusting began, short and stuttered jerks of the mecha's hips, pinning his own between them. 

His head was grabbed, pulled, and fingers went into his mouth, forcing it painfully wide. Just as he was getting his jaw reconfigured for the stretch, a normal sized spike was shoved in and he relaxed into the same treatment he'd given the first of swallowing around it and letting the owner do the rest of the work.

It went on like that for the next two joors, while the group used him for every klik they'd paid for, pushing and pulling and groping at his frame, taking his mouth and valve, or just dry rubbing against him until every single one of them had overloaded on and in him again and again. 

The ringleader was buried deep in his valve, grunting harshly behind him, his pedes not even touching the ground as his front pressed against the wall, when the time ran up. It wasn't worth it to the sore, tired Praxian to stop him right on the nanoklik, so he held out silently until the mech overloaded with a roar, pulled out, and let him drop into a heap on the ground.

Though he was quite capable of moving, of standing and even transforming to drive fast if he wanted to, Prowl was much more inclined to simply settle where he'd been dropped for a moment, gathering his wits and ready to find out if he'd be paid the additional credits he was owed. He knew he looked far more dazed and abused than he felt, but that didn't mean he felt all that good.

He could feel the sludge from the ground seeping into his seams and transfluid was drying all over his frame, dripping from his valve, coating the inside of his mouth and running down his jaw to his neck. He heard the sound of transforming and moved his optics up, prepared to see all six of them driving away, but instead, it was five of them idling while the ringleader stood in front of him, holding his hand out. 

He opened it, and the credit sticks fell, some of them landing on him, the others dropping into the sludge. 

"It's a good look on you," the mech said, then transformed, and the group drove away single file after him.

Prowl didn't wait for them to be gone to collect the credits and check the amount before subspacing them. He stood and shook himself, trying to get as much filth off as possible, then pinged the local net for the nearest public washrack. A look at himself and he closed his valve cover, spat out the transfluid from his mouth, and started to grab some sludge to cover up and rub off the transfluid from his frame. He looked like a terrible mess, but much less like he'd just been gang-'faced by six mecha for two full joors and a half klik.

He sent a message to Jazz to meet him at the washrack when he was done for the orn and walked his way there, weary but putting on a front of extreme irritation at being messy.

Jazz got there not long after Prowl did, appearing in the doorway and looking around through the steam, crossing over to Prowl with a deep frown on his face as his gaze swept his mate up and down. A glance to the side at the other two mecha in there with them, and Jazz simply stepped in with Prowl under the rinse spray, getting a closer look at the filth that was still lodged in crevices.

"It was worth it," Prowl said simply, his voice low. Exact numbers and deeds were not something he wanted to bring up with others around. "How did your orn go?"

"Fine," Jazz said. "Same as the last two." He shifted behind his lover and dipped his fingers carefully into the transformation seams, scooping out gunk. The hands traveled lowered, massaging as they went, until they were low enough to slip between Prowl's thighs, run over the plating there, and come back up with his fingertips coated with a distinctive silvery smear that washed away in the next moment. "Watchcraft," he whispered.

"Paid well enough," Prowl sighed, leaning into the touch and allowing his optics to turn off for a moment. "Help me clean up?"

"Of course," Jazz murmured, and nuzzled his mate from behind and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly for a moment before stepping back, grabbing the thin cloth that was attached to the wall by a long chain, and starting in on the shoulders. He moved carefully down Prowl's back, going into every seam and rubbing repeatedly until all the plating, as scratched as it was in some places now, was clean. 

Jazz pressed his mouth to Prowl's audial from behind, and even though they had long been the only two in here, spoke very softly. "Hotel. Need to hold you."

"Yes," Prowl nodded, flaring his field into his mate. "Hold you, feel you. We have much to talk about."

They returned to the same credit-per-joor place they had been using, driving there in silence, and it was only when the door was locked and secure behind them that Jazz pressed flush to his lover, pulling him into a desperate kiss as shaking fingers moved over the dataport to find it already open. Prowl's return kiss was just as needy, full of passion, want and a trembling of fear that didn't make sense until Jazz plugged in.

~I saw a bounty hunter today. He was telling anyone who listened that I'd botnapped you, that I was hurting you and the twins to get back at _him_ for discharging me for stealing. It was what we looked like leaving Central City, but I doubt there are three carriers of twins on Cybertron right now. We'll be watched _so_ closely anytime it's discovered,~ Prowl literally spilled his fears across the line, shaking as they found the berth and pressed close.

Jazz shuddered, his grip tightening. ~No one here knows,~ he whispered. ~I haven't told anyone and I don't need excuses for going through energon like I did in Tyger Pax.~

~The hunter is here. Someone thinks we're here,~ Prowl shook his helm, holding Jazz tightly. ~We need to move on. Mecha saw what condition you were in when we got here. Too many mecha. I got enough credits to make some kind of start in Simfur. Not an easy one, but it has more industry than this tourist city.~

~You got credits by--Prowl you were _covered_ with--why didn't you ask _me?_ ~ Jazz pleaded, the thoughts running too close together to separate fully. ~I could have gotten there, done it instead of you!~

~It was an opportunity. I didn't go looking,~ Prowl tried to sooth him. ~I was considering the idea, and then they were cornering me. It was try to get paid or hope I had the energy to escape. I got 720 credits. It was worth it.~ He kissed Jazz softly. ~I can take the use at least as easily as you can, love. You saw what Vortex did, but you never saw, never knew what existence means in a noble estate for a commoner. I have three creations out there that I don't even know the designations of. Not one was with a mecha I cared about. I've spent my entire existence where anyone who ranked me had the right to use me without compensation. This ... this was easy. They expected so little for the credits.~

 _Distress-anger-love-protect_ flickered through Jazz's field. ~No one should ever have had a right to use you,~ Jazz whispered, fingers coming down to rest over the center of Prowl's chest. ~Not you, not this spark. You're better than all of them.~ 

~Just as no one should have hurt you,~ Prowl returned the gesture, feeling the pulse of Jazz's spark through his field, so much dimmer than before, but still there if he got close enough. ~It has happened. Now we move forward.~

Jazz sighed, and the _fight_ that had come into his field and struggled there, everyone it was directed at far out of reach, drained away. ~Yes,~ he murmured, drawing his lover into a kiss. ~Beautiful lover, perfect lover,~ he whispered, hand splaying over Prowl's chest and caressing. ~Some orn it won't be like this.~

~One orn we will be able to remove the blocker, we will bond, and I will carry your creation as you will carry mine,~ Prowl promised, shaking as desire bloomed in him. ~Want you moaning under me,~ he kissed Jazz fiercely. ~Want to overload deep inside you and feel your bliss at it.~

Jazz's engines gave a hard, sharp rev of _want_ and he whimpered softly, drawing his leg up and sliding it along Prowl's, both interfacing panels sliding back. ~Want to feel the heat of your ecstasy,~ he whispered, tilting his head into the kiss. ~Take you inside me before I take you, reclaim you, wash their touch away.~

"Yes!" Prowl's moan was out loud, knowing full well how much Jazz loved his voice and now that he would be saying things that mecha expected to come from rooms like this. His panels slid open, the rounded, woven textured spike slid out between them. Gently he pushed Jazz to his back and lay over him, taking a moment to simply savor a kiss and the press of an aroused frame he wanted against him. "You are beautiful, my lovely. So warm and wanting. I want you all to myself. I want to be greedy and be the only one who knows just how good you can make a mecha feel."

His fingers slid between them, ghosting along Jazz's spike housing before slipping further down to caress the opening and platelets that he'd soon be buried in. Just the thought sent a surge of heat though him. Sensitive, slick platelets caressed his fingers, rippling and shivering under the touch while their owner moaned shamelessly, eager and wanting. 

"I'll make it so good, lover," Jazz said, voice a deep purr, hips lifting up off the berth, seeking _more_ , seeking _him_ , "Make you run so hot and hard, please, please, lover," he begged, legs spreading wide, baring everything. "Fill me, spike me, take me!"

"So eager," Prowl rumbled, shifting quickly to sink into that slick, tight valve in one precise motion. "So tight and slick. Oh, you are so good," he groaned as he began to thrust, wanting to clear the persistent hint of a charge that was still lingering from being used. He didn't like to think about why he'd enjoyed it a bit more than he should have. Instead he focused on the charge building now, from actions that he very much approved of getting off on. "You're so perfect around me, gripping me like no other."

Jazz arched his back and cried out with every drive, legs hooked around Prowl's waist and arms on his shoulders, head thrown back and mouth wide open. "Love you like no other," he moaned, giving a hard shudder. "Need everything you give me, Watchcraft, yes, _yes_ , I-- _ah_ \--" Jazz broke off, vocalizer giving out with the next surge as his lover slammed into his hips. ~ _Prowl!_ ~ he cried, frame shaking, fingers clawing. 

"That's right, feel me, that's _me_ pleasuring you," Prowl panted, then buried his face against Jazz's neck and keened with the sharp, almost sudden cascade of energy crashing through him. Joors of being pent up exploded across his frame and channeled molten heat through his spike to fill his lover. Jazz screamed beneath him as the transfluid hit aching sensors and set them alight with ecstasy and seized against Prowl, frame rigid as charge swept over him and surged out. He gripped Prowl desperately, hips bucking against the spike with each hard rush, trying to draw it out for both of them. 

When the energy crackled out they collapsed together, shivering, but almost without pause Jazz hooked his leg around Prowl's and pulled, rolling his lover onto his back, pressing a hard kiss. "Going to make you mine again," he whispered, vocalizer hoarse with lingering static, and he lifted off Prowl's spike and pushed his lover's leg's apart with his knees. Prowl's valve cover was already open, lubricant glistening in the dim light of the room and Jazz's optics.

"Always yours," Prowl shifted to offer himself more fully, eager to feel _Jazz_ inside him, even though he knew it would make his still-sore valve ache as much as it felt good. He didn't care. He wanted his mate and he wanted what was being offered more than he cared about any discomfort.

Jazz groaned and shivered at the words and the offering that came with them, reaching down between Prowl's legs to gently brush at the opening as his spike extended, watching Prowl's face and the pleasure that flickered across it at the soft touch. He swirled his fingers, barely teasing at the opening, then lifted his hand away, aligned his spike, and pressed forward, seating himself fully in one smooth motion, gasping as housing met platelets. 

"Mine," Jazz whispered, leaning forward to nip at the offered neck. He pulled out with a shuddering moan, shifted his angle, and thrust back in. " _Always_ ," he moaned. "You've always been mine." 

"For as long as your spark has had a frame," Prowl groaned, carefully shielding the ache in his valve from Jazz while passing on the pleasure. His arms wrapped around his lover, holding tightly as he rocked and rubbed into each thrust. "Wanted to be yours for so long."

Even in the noise of their coupling, the distinctive sound of armor locks unlatching was unmistakable.

Jazz shook at the effort it took not to respond in kind, useless as it would be, and lifted his hand up to press down on Prowl's chest. "No matter what you have to do," he managed, the words faltering, broken by his gasps as he thrust, "You come back to me. Lover," he gasped, speed picking up, burying his face against Prowl. "Love you." 

"Always. For I love you," Prowl moaned, willingly losing himself in the pleasure and promise, giving himself up completely to his lover's touch and the bliss of everything else being washed away.


	15. Simfur

Simfur was another long drive, but with Prowl's credits, and the few Jazz had made, they had enough energon to recover from shifting to new frames -- back to more generic grounder frames, similar to the ones they'd worn in Tyger Pax but of different models, dark colors helping them blend in with the industrial city -- and make the journey. 

It didn't leave them with much when they arrived, but it was enough to get started. They needed work, doing whatever they could find as soon as possible, but before that, they needed rest, and for that, they needed a room. Credit-per-joor hotels, the cheapest ones, were located deep within the city's poorest districts, where one look down an alley had Jazz praying they would get to the selected hotel without incident.

When dark frames stepped out from the shadows and blocked their path, he wondered why he'd ever thought they could get even that much of a break, and transformed into root mode at the same time as Prowl, looking warily at the group. He recognized Prowl's stance as a basic self-defense one from watching the House guards spar, though he knew his lover knew very little beyond a few basic moves. It was still more than Jazz knew, and Prowl had the larger, heavier frame. Carrier protocols also put Jazz behind him, the need to protect the lives dependent on him stronger than his need to stand next to his love.

"Never seen you two around here before," one of them said, stepping forward enough into the scant amount of light there was, optics glowing red and denta bared in a vicious grin. "You picked the wrong gutters to sight see in."

His hand shifted out from behind his back, and was that a _blaster?_ Jazz realized suddenly, staring at the weapon. The grins and snickers from the gang showed how much his reaction must have been obvious.

Prowl made a small but flawless move to protect Jazz more with his own chassis, one hand back to help him keep track of his mate when he didn't have doorwings to do the job.

"What do you want?" Prowl growled softly, processor hard at work judging the blaster for type, strength and effect against his grade of armor.

"There's a price to be 'round here," came a hiss from behind them, and Jazz spun, pressing his back to Prowl's, as three more of the gang crept out, blocking the only possible escape route. 

"And not so much a price as everything you've got," the first sneered, stepping forward, optics sweeping dismissively over the pair and Prowl's basic stance, holding his hand out. 

::Sharp--:: Jazz commed, careful to use Prowl's designation for this city. ::There isn't a way past them.::

::We survive.:: Prowl replied firmly with the first and last priority. ::Everything else can be replaced.::

Against all sense in that statement, Prowl made a lighting fast move, catching the blaster out of the leader's hand and snapping off three shots behind him, clearing the way for Jazz to run.

::Transform. Go!:: Prowl snarled over the comm as he moved to finish turning, the now depleted blaster crushed in his hand.

"You little--!" was all Jazz had time to hear before he transformed and shot away as fast as he could, coding to protect the newsparks driving the action that left his lover behind. He heard the sound of another transforming and prayed it was Prowl, but when he looked, it was one of the gang splitting off from the main group to follow after him, and behind that, the rest had fallen in on Prowl.

Jazz cursed as his attention was torn back to his pursuer, who was gaining on him faster than he could get away. The other had the more streamlined design and the speed advantage. Jazz knew the way they'd come in was a bad option, it led right to a heavy traffic area where he would almost certainly cause a crash, and that would endanger the newsparks just as much as getting caught, if not more. 

He skimmed ahead, saw an alley, and engaged his brakes while cutting his wheels, scraping his side sharply against the corner before he got around it, hoping the mech behind him wouldn't be able to follow the move quickly enough. 

The sharp squeal of brakes and the mech shot past, but Jazz had to slam on his own brakes a moment later when he came up right against a dead end and transformed, coming to a skidding stop just before slamming into the wall. Headlights casting his shadow forward told him the pursuer had backtracked and followed, and the light shifted with the sound of transforming. Jazz scrambled to his pedes, back against the wall, and snarled at the heavy build as it advanced. 

"Here kitten," the mech purred, "Got me all revved up now, haven't you." 

"Go slag yourself," Jazz hissed, looking for the vulnerable fuel lines in the neck. He was tall enough, if he could get at one and tear it open, and a strike centered in one of the hip joints could cause extreme pain if that option failed. He waited, watching the slow approach, and when the mech was close enough, he shot up and lunged. 

But the mech was prepared for him and easily countered the attempted attack, grabbing both wrists and throwing Jazz down, pushing him hard into the pavement. Jazz knew how to _hurt_ if his prey was bound, but he didn't know how to fight. A knee ground into his chest and Jazz froze, an instinctive reaction in response to a threat against his spark chamber. The soft whine of a blaster powering up came before he felt it pressed against his helm, and Jazz was yanked up to his pedes and dragged all the way back, compliant, unwilling to endanger the newsparks by struggling against the weapon. 

He heard it before he saw it, the sound of grunting and the harsh grate of metal against metal, and when he was thrown forward onto his hands and knees and his helm forced up, he saw Prowl on his back, unresisting, optics dimmed almost completely offline, pinned down by three of them while a fourth slammed into his valve. Energon was pooled beneath his hips, either from a wound or from his cover being torn away, Jazz couldn't tell, and he didn't have time to look closer before he was shoved over and turned forcefully onto his back. 

The blaster kept him still and the sight of the mech's spike pressurizing had his valve cover snapping back, part conditioning and part knowledge that fighting was useless at this point. Survive, survive and recover. 

The look on the rapist's face as he drove in told Jazz that he was expecting protest, or pleas, maybe sobs and screams, any kind of reaction other than the one he got, because even though his spike was studded with sharp barbs, there was nothing this mech could do to him that would actually hurt, and Jazz _laughed_. 

It earned him a strike across the face, drawing energon from his lip, but it didn't stop the sound. He _couldn't_ stop his laughter, even at the next hard thrust with the growled command to cut his vocalizer. All Jazz could do was try to muffle the sound with his hand until a strong kick to his helm stunned him. 

When he regained his senses, he moved unfocused optics up to the mech spiking him, bared his teeth, and snarled, "Do your worst," before turning his head to look at Prowl, surprised to find his lover's optics had moved enough to meet his. He kept his gaze fixed on those until the next strike on the back of his helm knocked him completely offline.

He rebooted to the sense of someone pulling things out of his subspace and quiet sounds of surprised pleasure and some confusion.

"What is it?"

"Who cares? It's worth something."

More relative silence. His optics came online, giving him a visual of four mecha around Prowl's battered frame as the Praxian's subspace was emptied and inventoried.

He stayed quiet and still, engaging the settings he'd once used so often while meditating and straining for absolute silence. They weren't formatted for this frame--he made a mental note to work on that--but they did the job well enough. 

The last of his subspace was emptied--he recognized a stack of mineral supplements that would have helped build the twins' protoforms--and the group around him stood, none of them noticing his optics quickly blinking off. 

Jazz listened as they grouped, showing off their more unusual and valuable finds with triumphant crows, before they transformed and drove away. He stayed still for another klik after that, then onlined his optics again and carefully looked around, seeing nothing but Prowl. 

Prowl, who still seemed to be frozen, energon and transfluid and grime smeared on him and seemingly unaware of anything despite having his optics on.

Jazz frowned and pushed himself up with a low groan, registering a badly ripped valve and sore pelvis. He crawled over to his lover, looking into optics that weren't focusing and didn't follow him. "Sharp," he hissed, not daring to use his real designation in the open like this, and carefully grabbed his shoulder and tilted his head up. "Sharp? Love?" His voice pitched up when nothing responded, optics or frame, and he pressed shaking fingers to the dataport, caressing the plating.

It slid open, though it was impossible to tell how aware Prowl was of the action, and when Jazz plugged in he slammed into strong firewalls that only belatedly reacted to his ID pings. Once in, he was faced with a vivid, confusing memory mash-up. He recognized Vortex, and he thought he recognized a couple of much younger faces, but the scene didn't make any sense. Vortex hadn't had those mecha over, Jazz was sure of it, and simple gang rape wasn't the rotor's MO anyway.

What he could easily recognized, though, was the distress and fear that flooded over the hardline, punctured by sharp pain that Jazz understood immediately, and knew intimately. He gasped, and pressed forward his own memories with a soft pulse of energy tuned to his spark frequency. Curled up with Prowl, holding him close, kissing him deeply, stroking his wings. Nothing that had interface, Jazz stayed away from those memories, instead running through the quiet, soft joors they'd spent talking in berth, when they had been so happy to be able to _talk_.

~I'm here, Prowl, love, it's Jazz, we're all here, it's over,~ he whispered, touching their helms together, looking into the frozen optics, praying desperately. 

Slowly, too slowly, memories began to untangle, releasing their grip on Prowl's awareness. Even before it was over real recognition of Jazz and the existence of the memory replay as not-reality clicked and he pressed against Jazz tightly. From there it was a fight to put the memories away faster than they wanted to go.

Jazz stopped his own memory replay, pulled those back, and pressed as much strength as he had to give to his lover, offering reassurance and comfort and trying not to look at the memories that Prowl was frantically trying to tuck away. He felt warmed by the way that Prowl accepted his strength, leaned into him, wanting him there and grateful for the help.

"I'm all right," Prowl's words came out with static, but they were clear across the hardline. ~We should move. Did they get everything?~

~Yeah,~ Jazz whispered, helping Prowl sit upright, and then stand, looking around the whole time as his lover regained his balance. ~I have nothing left. Where?~

~This gang knows there's nothing left to take. It's probably safe enough in their territory. There. The alley has a cut-out in the building. Shelter for the night. We need to rest. I need to think and data mine.~

Jazz nodded, and as he reached up to unplug, his energon alarms went off, demanding that he refuel for the newsparks' sake. He winced and silenced them quickly, but not before Prowl's head turned sharply towards him, then tucked his cable away before looking at the levels. 

Already low from the drive, the only reason the alarms hadn't gone off before now had been the heat and activity level. Now that the activity had stopped and his systems were cooling, they were insistent that he should have refueled a while ago. ::Should I watch while you do that?:: he asked quietly as they walked, not wanting to talk about the levels. There wouldn't be energon until there were funds, and there wouldn't be funds until they were rested and had figured something out. 

Prowl nodded. ::How low?:: Prowl demanded quietly.

::Seventy-five,:: Jazz sighed. ::It's fine, the alarms are set high for a reason. We'll be fine.::

They got into the small cut-out and sat, pressing their backs to the wall and leaning against each other. 

Prowl simply nodded and shut halfway down, focusing on his tac-net and self-repair. He knew ways of getting energon. Theft, yes, or theft for credits, but he knew how to transfer it directly, too. Draining one mech for another. It was done to help those whose punishments were too severe, the way he'd learned, but the technique would work on any mecha that would be still for it. Active, unconscious or deactivated. Though deactivated was more difficult since the processed energon was no longer flowing except by gravity.

With a small internal shudder for what he'd become so quickly, Prowl shut down further to remove what little was left of his moral coding.

* * *

Prowl worked for nearly an orn while Jazz watched before he roused out of the intensive data mining. They had nothing, and he still owed Mucit for the blocker. It was going to be a long time before they were financially stable again. He onlined his optics and saw Jazz sitting in front of him, arms around his knees, watching the alley. He reached out and squeezed the back of his mate's neck, silently getting his attention.

Jazz turned with a weary smile. "Done?" 

Prowl nodded. "Recharge," he said. "I will keep watch." 

Jazz's field flared with relieved gratitude and he gladly traded places with Prowl, immediately curling with his back to the wall and falling into recharge. 

Prowl reached back and brushed his thumb over his lover's helm, then shifted his attention outward. 

Discoloration on the ground caught his attention and he looked down, frowning, then his head snapped around to look at Jazz, looking him up and down. He turned back to the stain--processed energon--looked up and down the alley to make sure it was empty, then shifted around into a crouch and carefully lay Jazz back, then spread his legs open. 

A quick glance up, the recharge cycle was deep enough that the motion hadn't roused him, and Prowl turned his attention back down, and hissed softly when he saw the energon leaking out from behind the valve cover. He touched it--still warm--and did some rapid calculations based on his own levels and the damage his valve had taken. 

Jazz hadn't recharged, the deeper auto-repair cycles hadn't had a chance to engage yet, and this valve was not designed to take the kind of damage that he'd once been able to. Assuming the gang had each had their way with both of them--likely, considering the damage reports he was now skimming over and the amount of energon on the ground--Jazz should have the same amount of damage. 

Combine that with already-low levels, an auto-repair that was going to be burning through even more fuel, and twin newsparks nearing the end of their second metacycle... Jazz was likely to recharge for at least an orn, more if Prowl let him, and his energon levels weren't going to be good by the end of it.

Prowl was going to have to do something drastic, and soon. He couldn't count on another high-priced interface. That was a fluke. If they couldn't get a paying job within an orn of Jazz rebooting, it was going to come down to stealing. Prowl didn't have kin in this city that he could trust, and it was too dangerous to ask for credits from those in better places.

This was going to be the test of their ability to survive in the real world. They either made it through this decaorn, or they wouldn't make it at all.

* * *

Three orns. Prowl had managed to get enough energon for Jazz for three orns with petty theft while he scoped out the surrounding area for a better target, unwilling to take the risk until he was certain of the return. He was good with his hands and he carried himself in a way that none expected him to steal without drawing much attention to himself. They were still huddled in an alley, though he'd at least found a better one. More defendable and with escape routes. The mech who had been squatting there hadn't put up much a fuss when Prowl's powerful engine had growled.

It was Jazz's first lesson in a way. The weak gave way to the stronger.

They were both well aware of the optics on them. Every local was watching, working out if they were here to stay and how dangerous they actually were. Their advantage was the strength of their frames, the war-grade construction and materials. Their disadvantage was a complete lack of anything resembling an ability to fight and use those frames to active advantage.

But Prowl knew other things. He _knew_ things. He was good with his processors.

It was walking to meet Jazz in their current spot that he realized that he now knew how to bring enough energon to his mate to top his tanks off completely, if he was willing to cross that new line. The mech in the darkness of an alley Prowl didn't think was safe was nearly gone already. An empty. One that even the guttersmecha viewed as worthless. Its tanks would be empty, but not its lines. The average mech that size had a good seven cubes' worth of energon in their systems, if you managed to drain it all.

Prowl didn't need it all, though he had little doubt it would be the end of this one's life if he even took the three cubes he needed for his mate and the cube for himself. With an internal grimace he quietly walked by, plotting the best way to get into the alley's shadows to grab the empty unseen.

When he came back later that orn, after it was dark, he could feel optics on him from shadows he once would have believed uninhabited, but now knew better. Everyone knew what was in that alley. Everyone knew that these mated newcomers weren't well off. Their armor would only help them for so long, and if the gang had been able to figure out their more mysterious finds from their subspaces, they would know that one of them was carrying, which was as much a disadvantage as anything out here when it engaged coding that wasn't designed for this life. 

This had to be done, now. They needed energy and to prove their willingness to survive here, or they were done for in a matter of orns if they couldn't get out. 

When Prowl's steps reached the boxy empty huddled in its corner, its optics flickered on and up and it stared at the shape above, a whine growing in its ruined, rattling engine as it tried to kick to life. 

"Don't fight and this will be quick and pleasurable," Prowl murmured as he knelt, a tube with a connector end on it extending from his wrist.

Its optics flared and it pressed back against the wall, quivering, shaking its head. It didn't want to die, it didn't matter that it was only a matter of time now, but it didn't want it to be _now_. One more joor, one more breem, one more _klik_ \--

The broken vocalizer spat static, but the field was clear enough. 

Prowl sighed and grabbed, using his far greater strength to hold the mech still and open a dataport, only to find it degraded beyond use. A quick search produced similar result until he growled in frustration and went for a primary cable connection on the neck. In an instant the empty's reality was flooded with the best moments fantasy could produce mingled with the real sensations from someone who had experienced it all.

It shuddered with surprise and confusion for a moment before it gave in, letting the visions become its reality, processors too weak to tell the difference anymore. Prowl noted absently that the spaces he'd left blank--faces, designations--were being filled in with the empty's choices, and the frame went slack beneath him, field rippling with unfamiliar pleasure.

Prowl spent no more time on it. He quickly connected his systems to the empty and initiated long-unused commands to begin drawing energon from the systems into his own. A shiver was the only response from the frame that was slowly slumping completely to the ground, strength giving out, not a single flicker of fight coming to its field, far too lost in the vibrant fantasy of life never experienced. 

The optics blinked off and the rattle of damaged fans finally ceased and the empty was motionless after that, its processors being forced into an escalating shutdown, leaving only the autonomous life-support systems online, and just barely. There was still fuel in its lines when Prowl could hold no more, but it was going to deactivate soon no matter what. 

Quickly Prowl pulled out an empty cube from subspace and filled it from his systems, then a second. The full cubes disappeared into subspace as quickly as they were filled and he continued to drain the frame next to him of every drop he could. Quietly he poked at the processors peripheral to his and pulled up a designation from when this frame had had something resembling a life.

~Rest with Primus. Thank you for giving your life for ours,~ Prowl recited a simple and ancient prayer.

The frame didn't respond, the field lay lax against it, and when the last drops emptied out from its lines, there was an almost imperceptible shiver as the spark guttered, not even enough strength left in it to expel outward as the energy disappeared with a whisper, leaving a greying husk behind. 

Prowl disconnected and stood, slipping away as he'd come, leaving no evidence of violence that any local was likely to recognize even if they looked at the remains. He moved on, rejoining Jazz in their spot and quietly offered the two cubes.

Jazz lifted his head from where he'd been resting with dimmed optics, trying to conserve as much energy as possible, and accepted the first cube. He tipped it back in the first swallow, then paused. That taste. 

He knew that taste. 

Optics flickered over to his mate while concern worked into his field. Not concern for the life lost, he couldn't care less about that, but concern for what Prowl had been pushed to do. Silently he reached out and squeezed his arm as he took another swallow, flaring deep gratitude and love. 

"You will have full tanks and full systems tonight," Prowl said firmly. "I know where to get more."

Jazz simply nodded as he finished the first cube and traded it for the second, watching energy levels that were rising above the 60 percent mark since they'd first settled in this alley. When the second was gone, he hit 71 percent, and reported the number. 

Prowl nodded and extended the tube from his wrist, quickly and smoothly connected it to a line in Jazz's throat and reversed the pump action, pushing energon from his system into his mate's.

A flicker of protest went through Jazz's field but he made no move to stop his lover. The newsparks needed the energon more than Prowl. "Thank you," he murmured, relaxing back against the wall and sighing in relief as his systems filled. He'd never known hunger, not _real_ hunger, and he had no protocols in place to deal with anything less than nearly full tanks. He was far more familiar with how to deal with consuming energon when he had full tanks. The efficiency changed with overall level. 

When he reached full capacity, he blocked the line and pulled the tube from his neck, handing it back to Prowl. 

"Next evening I'll do something about credits," Prowl promised as he settled next to Jazz. "You take first watch?"

"Yes," Jazz said, wrapping arms around his mate and bringing his head in to rest against his chassis. He pressed a kiss to Prowl's helm, optics focused outward as he absently rubbed the back of his lover's neck. "Don't be mad, I followed one of the tricks that comes down here at night to see where he gets clients. There's a..." He trailed off for a moment. "A good place, to find mecha willing to pay."

Prowl nodded and tipped his helm to kiss Jazz softly, warmly. His field spoke for him. Approval. Acceptance. "I hope it doesn't come to that, all the same. I have an idea. I think I'm good enough to pull it off."

"Please be careful," Jazz murmured. "If you get caught by Enforcers and they pull your records...you're done for, and I don't think even the newspark will compel me to survive if you're gone." 

"Love, they'd have to match my spark signature to my old records," Prowl reminded him gently. "I will be careful. I promise."

Jazz nodded and accepted that. "Rest, my love," he murmured. "You need your strength."

* * *

Prowl was mentally going over his take. He'd been careful not to clean the place out, though he knew with little doubt that the owner could have afforded it. Almost six hundred credits in cash, three cubes of good high grade worth at least as much on the open market if he and Jazz didn't drink it and seven cubes of good quality regular energon. The grade Prowl was used to as a seneschal, far nicer than he'd had since leaving Central City.

It had been a thrill, too, sneaking in, breaking into the alarm system so it didn't go off, searching out and finding what he needed and slipping away. For the first time he understood why some mecha were thieves when they could have been other things. At this level it was exhilarating, but also dangerous. Enforcers took theft seriously, and while Prowl was confident he could continue this work, it simply wasn't worth the risk to use it as a continued means of income. There were variables that he could not control, and while they were highly unlikely to occur, dozens of them could get him caught and he wasn't going to take any unnecessary risks when Jazz and the twins were depending on him. 

He rounded the back of the club Jazz had scouted out the previous orn, and where they had planned to meet. His lover was there, perched on a crate talking to some of the buymecha who recharged there during the day.

Jazz saw him and his posture shifted into obvious relief as he smiled at the buymech, thanked him, and jumped down to join him. "Went well?" he murmured as they began walking. 

"Quite well. We can visit a good washrack and recharge on a real berth tonight," Prowl leaned against him and slid an arm around Jazz's waist, just wanting to be close. "There's good energon too. What did you learn?"

Jazz pinged Prowl with a file of the prices the buymecha had given him for different kinds of interfacing. They matched well with the research Prowl had done, with only a few acts that varied. 

"They know which streets to avoid, too," Jazz said. "Most of 'em won't tell very much, though. The club seems a good place to pick up mecha who can't afford the dancers." 

"Perhaps you can get work as a dancer. It seems they are paid better, if you're careful about your contract," Prowl hummed.

"I would like that," Jazz admitted. "I'd like to try, once I'm clean." He shuddered, unable to hide how badly he wanted the filth off his frame. "At least if I can't find industry work."

Prowl nodded, stepped away now that they were clear of the club's space and transformed. It was time to reach a better part of town, away from the local gang and to the washrack they both badly needed.

* * *

Prowl led them to a washracks located just on the edge of a middle class residential district, larger on the outside than any public washrack Jazz had ever been to. It was more expensive, too, he realized as he watched his lover putting the credit sticks in. In Tyger Pax they'd used a standard public washrack with no extra amenities, and since then it had been whatever they could afford. 

Once inside the entrance, there were signs with prices on them for varieties of energon, one for frame massages, and two doorways, one that led into a larger room with a steaming pool and what might be an oil soak beyond it and one that led to the washracks. 

Prowl kept a hand on his lower back, guiding him into the washracks, where there were showers separated by walls and a larger open area in the back with a group of mecha standing under closely-grouped showerheads talking and laughing. 

Jazz was more interested in moving into the closest open stall. Prowl followed after him, adjusting the temperature and rinse controls for a moment, and once he lowered his hand Jazz took him by the shoulders and brought him into a kiss. Prowl returned it eagerly, the pure relief of having the credits to live at an acceptable level and a few extras like this nice washrack having turned his processors to what he wanted to do once they were clean and had a soft berth.

Prowl slid his hands down Jazz's sides, helping the worst of the grime come off under the rain of solvent. The welcoming, relieved flare in Jazz's field was immediate as he began doing the same on his mate's frame. Prowl's fingers ghosted over a dataport as the kiss broke, then his hands went to cleaning Jazz's neck and throat. Not only was it a favored place to touch, but the complex and unshielded mass of cables that allowed flexibility also collected grime like no other part of a mecha's frame, save the pedes.

"I'm glad I can indulge you in this again," Prowl murmured quietly.

Jazz tilted his head to the side, letting his optics flicker offline as the skilled fingers worked their way over and through wires and lines, unable to stop the soft groan of pleasure at the touch. 

"You know this isn't what's important to me," he whispered, then gave a soft, happy hum, and grinned. "Though I'm not going to complain." He let the requested port spiral open with a shiver of anticipation while his hands drifted lower on Prowl's frame and worked into the hip joints, stroking through the wires there to clean as much to touch. 

"I know, but I enjoy indulging you," Prowl purred and plugged in, enjoying the intimacy and safety it represented to them both. ~I've missed touching you for pleasure.~

~So have I,~ Jazz said, rolling his head back as Prowl his way worked forward. ~Anything more than an orn is too long.~

~Agreed. We work hard, legal or otherwise, and we'll never have to recharge on the street again.~ Prowl purred, indulging in cleaning his love of the grime and fear and hunger of the past few orns. ~We have the skills. We'll make our way here, or move on to another city.~

Jazz hummed as he ran his fingers through the hip joints one last time, knowing full well that he wasn't going to find anything else, before trailing them up to Prowl's abdomen and tracing over the transformation seams, helping work out the grit that the solvent wasn't already dissolving away. ~I'm spending the rest of my life recharging next to you,~ he purred in response. ~Whatever it takes, wherever we are.~

~Agreed,~ Prowl shivered at the touches, but far more at the promise. ~It is all I wanted for so long. Simply to be with you.~ His hands continued to work, softly and intimately without crossing that fine line of public display. It was a line that could be pushed much further here, where contact and helping hands was a large part of why mecha came. Not for intimacy but simply to be fully cleaned. Those same touches could easily be intimate though, just as the hardline could be for business privacy or pleasure.

Jazz slowly worked his way up his mate's body, skirting along that same line with fingers that caressed just as much as they cleaned. His own frame was heating, and it wasn't just from the temperature of the solvent. The images that were starting to flash through his mind, ones that he didn't hide from his lover, weren't helping either. He quivered, trying to stay focused on the task, working out small pebbles from beneath the seams in Prowl's armor. ~We know which parts of the city to avoid now,~ he murmured. ~We'll find work, there isn't anything to stop us anymore.~

~No, there is not,~ Prowl rumbled, his own memories and anticipations for the evening activities easily flowing to Jazz to heat him even more. Reluctantly he lifted his hand to the hardline plug a little shakily. ~I don't think we'll make it if we keep trading ideas like this.~

Jazz whined in halfsparked protest, then huffed, and nodded. "Teasing me," he breathed as Prowl unplugged, nuzzling their helms together briefly before working hard to refocus himself on the task of cleaning.

"Turn around and brace," Prowl said after a while. "I'll get your pedes."

Jazz spent another moment combing through the wires at the base of Prowl's neck, searching for anything else that might still be stuck there, before stealing a brief kiss and complying. He relaxed as Prowl picked up one pede, exposing the underside to the rain of solvent and began to scrub with one of the firmer brushes. It wasn't long before his optics shuttered, the pleasure rippling off him in waves. As sensitive as they could be to another mech's touch, pedes didn't seem to be part of the frame that got much attention, and without anything to focus on besides that touch and the small lines of sensation the brush was sending up through him, it was very easy to drift back off into fantasy. "Mm, Sharp," he murmured, utterly content. "Feels good."

"Good," Prowl purred, reveling in the ability to make his lover relax like this. He took his time, but eventually set the pede down and lifted the other one, paying special attention to the suspension and balance plates. "I'm going to make you feel very good all night."

Jazz shivered as Prowl's voice, pitched low and ringing with seductive harmonics, washed over him, making it very hard to keep himself where he was in favor of turning and 'facing his mate senseless. "We are getting private washracks one orn," he vowed, the words coming out more as a moan than anything else. 

"A goal to work towards," Prowl's rumble held a shiver of just how intense an idea that was to him. His fingers remained steady, cleaning the tire of Jazz's left pede. "With a hot oil pool and view of the city."

"And a berth in every single room," Jazz said with a playful grin that quickly turned into an open-mouthed gasp. 

Prowl chuckled in agreement, his field flaring with playful desire into his lover as he worked. "But there are so many other fun surfaces to use. Desks, tables, chairs, walls, banisters," he rumbled seductively. "I want to explore every option with you."

"All right, a berth _and_ one of each of those in every single room," Jazz amended with a soft laugh as he lowered his now-clean pede back to the ground and turned, leaning back against the wall and pulling Prowl in for a deep kiss. "And I suppose we will need useless things like energon dispensers and storerooms." 

"Something like that," Prowl pressed him against the wall, their frames rubbing slightly until Prowl reluctantly forced himself to pull away, his fans running hard and his armor panting slightly. "So hard to resist you," he trailed his fingers down Jazz's chest. "But I'd really like to avoid getting thrown out."

Jazz grinned at him. "I don't know, I think that would be exciting," he said, though his field assured his lover he wasn't being serious. Mostly.

"You're incorrigible," Prowl huffed playfully and leaned in for another kiss.

"Switch," Jazz moaned when their lips parted, stepping aside for Prowl to stand where he had been, facing the wall. Jazz tapped his hip, silently asking for the pede, and started in on the thorough cleaning he'd just received. It was relaxing, soothing in a way, to be able to give his mate such simple attention. It was such a different experience from his life before escaping when cleaning wasn't an act of affection, refueling wasn't a sacrifice, recharging wasn't an act of trust and interfacing wasn't an act of honest worship.

How much his existence had changed in two metacycles.

Prowl's field was no more shy about expressing his pleasure than Jazz's had been, and Jazz soon found himself running hot from it.

He lowered the first pede and instead of lifting the second put his hands on Prowl's shoulders and pushed hard against him, mouth on his neck. "Remind me," he said, voice low with desire, "Why it is we didn't overload ourselves senseless before coming here." 

Prowl shivered, his systems whining as he responded almost as quickly to Jazz as Jazz did to his advances. "Because we wanted to be clean..." he panted, fingers curling against the wall. "Not mess up the berth we'll recharge in."

"You're not helping," Jazz said with a frustrated huff, but unable to keep himself from grinning. "Are you _sure_ you don't want to have the experience of being thrown out?"

Prowl shuddered. Even teeking that his mate was joking it was hard to say no. Much harder than he ever anticipated possible. "Strata...." he whimpered, wanting so bad his frame began to ache. His field pulsed hard into Jazz, expressing all the desire in him for the mech against his back.

Jazz groaned, having been unprepared for the amount of _want-need-ache_ that his words triggered. "Other pede," he finally forced himself to say, after a long, uncertain moment in which he actually wasn't sure if he _was_ about to get them kicked out or not. "Then I'll get your back and we're going right to the hotel and I'm going to take you _so hard,_ " he whispered, moving a safe distance away. He knew they had the attention of the attendant. They'd had been quietly kept an optic on since the first intense kiss, for exactly this reason.

"Please," Prowl's low rumble was thick with desire, his fans picking up a notch as Jazz went to work on his pede. "Do anything you want. Anything."

"Really not helping," Jazz grumbled, shaking his head as he focused very hard on working grit out from the treads. The only thing--the _only_ thing--keeping him from saying slag it to the rules and spiking his mate right there was the vague awareness that they weren't supposed to attract too much attention to themselves, for some hard-to-remember reason having to do with the newsparks and their personal safety. 

The second pede was cleaned much faster than the first, though no less thoroughly, and then Jazz was running a brush over Prowl's back, quickly and efficiently working over the plating until it shined, no longer speaking, because he couldn't think of a single thing to say that wasn't an explicit description of everything he planned to do later. 

"Done," Jazz finally said, breaking the silence.

Prowl stood and turned, drawing Jazz close for a demanding, gyro-spinning kiss as he turned off the solvent flow. "Hardline and enjoy the pool, or dry off and get a room?"

"Lover, I swear to Primus if we aren't in a room within the groon, I'm taking your fine aft wherever we happen to be at the time, I don't even care if it's the lobby," Jazz all but growled into the kiss, engines rumbling deeply.

He was rewarded with a full-frame shiver and flare of arousal hard enough to make him see stars when Prowl's field hit his circuits. "Then we go now," Prowl growled, already stepping away to turn and leave. "I know where we're staying."

In a stumbling, uncoordinated effort that involved a lot more focus on each other than where they were going or how they were getting there, they made it past the attendant who was attempting to keep a straight face and smooth field, but was very obviously relieved that they were leaving. 

Jazz was forced to let go of Prowl enough for them to transform, and only did it because driving was going to be much faster. Prowl checked them in wirelessly before they even arrived, and getting their key code from the lobby took just one impatient klik, and then miraculously, somehow, they found the door it matched and all but fell inside, grabbing at each other and pressing their mouths together in a hard clash.

Prowl's hands roamed Jazz's plating, eager and hungry, but also demanding as he turned them around so his back was against the wall and Jazz was pinning him. He lifted one leg to rub against Jazz's hip, his valve panel already open. "You promised," he gasped out, tipping his helm back to offer his throat, his field pulsing into Jazz with eager submission and want.

"I did," Jazz groaned, and bit down on the exposed neck that he'd cleaned so carefully, spike already out, having extended the moment he'd heard the door lock. "Going to take you so hard," he moaned, and one hand hooked around beneath Prowl's knee and he yanked up, spreading the legs wide. He dipped his frame for a moment, aligned against the slick platelets, and then slammed forward with a desperate shout. 

His senses swirled around him as the torrent of pleasure rocked him to his core from the tight, slick heat that suddenly enveloped the most sensor-rich part of his frame. Against him his lover shuddered and moaned, grinding and rocking against him in this primal form of pleasure. Their fields meshed so tightly they were functionally a single expression of bliss and need rebounding from one mech to the other and back.

"Mine," Jazz groaned, mouth still pressed Prowl's neck. "Tight, lover, _oh_ , tight, baby, love, sweet love, sweet valve, _frag_ I love you so much, and you're mine, babe," he gasped, glyphs stringing together almost incoherently before he bit down again, hips jerking up without rhythm, driven by an aching need that had been too long unfulfilled. His engines whined with effort and the race to push them both to the release they craved.

"Yours," Prowl promised, trembling as he completely lost himself in the bliss of how things _should_ have been. "Yours forever. Give you anything, everything. Love you my Lord," he sobbed, clutching Jazz desperately tight, his charge so high minor connections were beginning to melt. "Please keep me."

"Just you try to leave and see what happens," Jazz growled. "I'm never letting go of you--nnh--you hear me?-- _ah_ , never," he moaned. He froze for just a moment, pulling his charge back, then tightened his grip on his lover's hips and _slammed_ in. "Scream for me," he commanded in a static-laced gasp. "Show me the shameless creature you've always wanted to be for me." 

Prowl didn't even wait for the words to finish. His vocalizer, his very field howled with his bliss, with how much he was his lover's to command. With how much he wanted it this way, to be taken, used, kept and held by the mech doing just that. His valve cycled tight, the energy of Prowl's overload crashing through him in a blinding typhoon of exquisite proportions.

Jazz seized against him with a scream that taxed his vocalizer to its limits, making it crackle with static as he shot transfluid in deep, hard bursts into his lover, bright arcs of charge shimmering over their frames. 

Jazz didn't even wait for the charge to fully dissipate before he grabbed Prowl by the shoulders and spun them together, hooking his leg around his lover's and pulling, sending them both toppling to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Jazz pushed Prowl onto his back and pulled out, moving into a straddle and grinding his bared valve against his lover's pelvis, wrapping a hand around his neck and pushing down. "Spike," he half gasped, half growled, and entirely commanded. " _Now._ " 

Prowl's submission was absolute, but desire was an inferno around him as he obeyed, his spike pressurizing the instant the cover was free, sliding right into the slick, cycling valve that immediately tightened in around him.

Jazz tossed his head back with a deep, blissful moan and rocked his hips once, twice. "That's it," he praised. "My perfect lover, my beautiful, exquisite lover, _mine_ , you exist for me, you were sparked for _me_ and no one else." Another slow roll against the fully-seated spike and Jazz's legs trembled. "Mine to use, mine to own, mine to command, you'll do anything for me, you _live_ to do anything for me." 

"Yes," Prowl moaned despite the hand against his throat. He rolled his hips into the pace Jazz set, working to please even as he held otherwise still. What little thought processing he had beyond indulging in the pleasure of his lover shut down, leaving him only responsive enough to grasp basic commands and physical stimulus.

It was unsettling, disturbing, and alarming. 

Jazz wasn't aware enough to sense the subtle change, his focus entirely on using the frame beneath him, riding hard against the textured, filling spike, gasping his approval and love with every buck of his hips until he was trembling so hard he could barely manage steady movement. "Let me feel it," he demanded--begged--ordered. "Give me your heat, you life, _everything._ "

Prowl shuddered and thrust up, his overload uncoiling in ribbons of fluid burning heat and the crackle of electricity through his frame, jumping to Jazz's at every contact point.

Jazz sobbed and arched back, legs seizing to clench around his lover's hips, driving desperately against him in the final moments before the charge broke and cascaded around them. " _Primus!_ " came the broken, static-laced scream of worship as Jazz shuddered around his lover.

When his overload finally let him go, Jazz sank forward, his valve still cycling around the hard spike deep inside it. He released a slow, shaky vent as his frame settled. "You are so good," he breathed, and released his hold on Prowl's throat, slumping with another hard shiver.

Gradually Prowl relaxed the core of tension inside him and came back to a more complete awareness. He slid his arms up, holding Jazz lightly and studied the field meshed with his own. He didn't know what he was looking for, only that something had gone wrong and he couldn't put any sort of definition to it.

Jazz's optics flickered in faint confusion when he felt the careful teeking through the thick haze of post-overload charge. He slowly, carefully lowered himself down over his lover, engines still purring and vents trying to dispel the heat.

Gradually they cooled in silence, Jazz relaxed on Prowl's chest and Prowl gently stroking his back.

"Berth?" Prowl's voice was low, questioning.

Jazz nuzzled against him, concerned by the tone in his lover's voice, and nodded, reluctantly sitting up and helping Prowl to stand with him. His legs were still shaking and it was with a soft groan of relief and pleasure that he felt the thick padding on the berth as he climbed on. He pressed a question into his field, watching silently as Prowl settled with him.

"You enjoyed the violence?" Prowl tried to find words to explain what he was seeking to understand. What had him so very disturbed.

Jazz froze and felt his spark go cold. He rapidly replayed the memory, watched the movement that had taken them both to the floor, the hold on Prowl's neck, and shrank away. "I..." he said, unable to explain even to himself why he'd liked those things so much. "I liked the control," he whispered, curling in further on himself.

"Control, not the pain," Prowl had to check. He had to know. "Not hurting me. Just dominating, control beyond what I give."

Optics widened with bright realization and their gaze snapped back up. "I hurt you," Jazz managed, horrified. "I just thought--you seemed--no, _no_ , never the pain!" he swore, pushing himself up, staring desperately at his lover, silently pleading for him to understand. " _Never._ Just control, I could never--you asked to be mine, that's all I wanted," Jazz said, voice getting softer with every moment until it was almost too hushed to hear.

Prowl caught him and pulled him close, relief soothing to them both. "I want to be yours. I am yours," he promised. "We're learning about each other. Mistakes will happen. You scared me more than hurt me. I wasn't ready for the aggression."

Jazz pressed against him, holding still as he replayed the memory again, calmer now, then moved his gaze up to his mate's, and very carefully, very slowly, with no pressure behind the movement, touched his fingers to Prowl's neck. "It was this, wasn't it," he said, voice even and low.

"Yes," Prowl nodded slightly, his hands on Jazz's frame gentle and soothing. "Only _he_ ever did that." It came out as barely a whisper as Prowl pulled his lover closer and buried his face against warm plating. The tremors came soon, flashes of memories of fingers around his throat.

Jazz moved his hand quickly, lifting it up to Prowl's helm and stroking. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "Never again."

Prowl shuddered. "I hate him for what he did to us. What a single vorn wrought," Prowl fought down the keen. "One vorn should never matter that much."

"He'll pay, we'll make him pay," Jazz said, wrapping his field soothingly around his beloved. "We'll hurt him, we'll find what he holds close and _destroy_ it."

Prowl shivered, then relaxed, his emotional universe falling back into place from a combination of hacked protocols and having a goal, a plan. Knowing what was coming always made him feel better. Even when he knew it was pain that was coming, he felt in control, safe. He never questioned why. On a level he knew he didn't want to be aware of the answer, whatever it was.

"I'm sorry I panicked," Prowl murmured, kissing the plating he was pressed against. "Just glad my reaction is to submit. Never want to hurt you."

Jazz trilled reassuringly, never breaking the rhythm of his petting. "You did go very still," he said quietly, some part of his spark feeling repulsed by himself for what he'd done. "I didn't realize... I will watch for that, now," he promised. 

"We will learn," Prowl rumbled back, holding him tightly. "Don't be afraid to try something new, to push boundaries. We both have a lot of psychological damage when it comes to interfacing. We will learn." He nuzzled Jazz for a kiss. "I do really get off on you being in charge, taking me just a little roughly," he added quietly.

Jazz's engines gave a hard rev that surprised him, making him shiver. "I enjoyed that," he admitted softly. "Very much." It had felt...right, in a way. Like seeing part of himself that had been beaten down by coding and conditioning and was being freed. 

"Good," Prowl kissed him again, his hands beginning to stroke Jazz's back. "It felt amazing."

Jazz purred into the touch. "By my count," he said, shifting to slide his leg between Prowl's, "We still have several orns' worth of missed interfacing to catch up on." 

"Oh, most definitely," Prowl shivered, kissing him more soundly as he pushed his lover to the berth. "Time to explore many ideas and some older fantasies."

Jazz's frame hummed with rippling anticipation. "I can't wait," he said, and grinned as he wrapped his legs up around Prowl's hips. "I made your life difficult, didn't I? You were always so proper with me."

"My spark made it difficult, desiring so far above my station," Prowl murmured, his thick spike sliding out between them to rub against Jazz's plating.

"I'm pretty sure I didn't help," Jazz hummed, rolling his hips up, and drew Prowl into a kiss. "Remember when I would dance for you?" he murmured against his lover's mouth. "I wanted you to want me. I knew I was going to have you as soon as I could, and I wanted you to feel the same." 

"Not realizing I did long before you knew what wanting meant," Prowl moaned, rolling his hips in response to press his spike into the very ready valve. "You made me _burn_ some orns. Everyone knew when you were being too playful and I would need relief."

Jazz groaned as he was filled. "All those lovers," he managed. "Waiting for me, waiting for your Lord. Call me Lord," he said, voice husky and low, and cycled his valve, squeezing and rippling.

Prowl shuddered and thrust in deeply. "As you command, my Lord," his tone lowered, harmonics thick with desire as he moved to pleasure the mech under him with honest desire and joy in doing do. "I have only ever wanted you, my beautiful, beautiful Lord."

* * *

Now that they were clean and rested and no longer looked like they'd gotten the slag beat out of them before being tossed into the gutters, searching for jobs became both possible and paramount. No one would hire a mech covered in filth and dried transfluid the way they had been. 

They very quickly discovered that the economy in Simfur was weakened and crumbling, in much worse shape than Tyger Pax had been. Tyger Pax had ports with traffic that fed in from all over the planet, but Simfur was more isolated, and it was struggling. 

Just as Prowl was wondering if there was a way to go back to Tyger Pax without raising too much suspicion--he was worried about how the bounty hunter had found a trail, and had to wonder if it hadn't started there--Jazz found work in a club, dancing on the stage. The owner had been skeptical, but when Jazz had shown himself to be classically trained, he'd been hired on the spot, and he loved the work. It was all the reason Prowl needed to redouble his efforts to find work for himself and negotiate a contract for an actual apartment for them. Now that they had a few credits and an income, it was a more efficient use of funds than even the cheapest hotel room.

So when Jazz danced, Prowl watched him as often as he could. When Jazz recharged and Prowl didn't need to, Prowl worked on integrating the combat protocols he'd illegally downloaded in the relative privacy of their one-room apartment. Then mornings and evenings Prowl went looking for work, with or without Jazz along. He accepted being a buymech when offers were made. He stole little things when he could. Mostly, though, Prowl looked for steady work.

It was a routine, if a highly unsatisfactory one for Prowl, but at least it involved getting to watch Jazz dancing and having the satisfaction of being the one to take him to berth every night after his shift, right past all of the jealous optics. 

That was where he was now, relaxing after work. He'd found a temporary job keeping the accounting updated for a small manufacturing firm while the regular femme was out until her sparkling separated, which was better than selling his frame. Right now, his primary focus had to be repaying Mucit, and to do that, he needed as many credits to invest as possible. 

"Your mate dances well," said a low voice next to him. 

"That he does," Prowl gave a sideways glance at the black, white and gold mech. He'd seen him around, though he hadn't gotten a designation yet. Mech moved like a fighter and owned what he was around. Most mecha treated him with the respect due someone who could and happily would beat the bolts out of you.

"The thing I want to know is," the mech said casually while he caught the optic of a server across the room and held up two fingers, "Why is he dancing at all when he could be spending his orns relaxing and resting in luxury? I'm sure he would appreciate that far more, carriers tend to like that sort of thing." 

Prowl shot the mech a look that could kill. "If you managed to find out he's carrying, you should already know the answer," he responded stiffly.

The mech grinned at him, completely unintimidated by the glare. "One of you had to be carrying, having protoform supplements in your subspace gave that away pretty well, and he's the one who steps back when there is a threat. Carrier protocols," the mech shrugged. "By the way, here," he said, and tossed something at Prowl, who caught it reflexively. 

Prowl looked at the object in his hand and realized it was the mineral supplements that had been stolen from Jazz. Before he could speak, the other continued. 

"So no," he said, "It actually doesn't answer my question, though I have a few guesses." 

"Credits," Prowl said simply as he subspaced the supplements as the server arrived with two cubes. "He's more employable for now."

"Now why would he need to dance for credits with a processor like yours to bring the energon home?" the mech said as soon as the server was gone again, still grinning.

Prowl huffed, but he sipped the offered high-grade. "My kind of work is harder to find."

The mech hummed. "But you don't need to work, do you," he said, lowering his voice a bit. 

Prowl gave him a more calculating look. "Investments require start up funds and time to pay out. At this point I'm a little adverse to high risk endeavors."

"Precisely," the mech said, grinning again. "See, the thing is, it's painfully obvious you two have no idea what you're doing. Not on the streets, anyway. You walk right into the worst part of town and lose _everything_ , and then a matter of orns later, with no noticeable employment, you're out of the gutters. With the timing, it's pretty obvious who was responsible for that theft the enforcers are still trying to figure out. You're good, Sharp, you shouldn't have anything to worry about, and yet here you are, taking temp jobs while he dances." He took a long swallow. "Something is stopping you from stealing. A common guess would be morals, but we both know you have none of those. Takes a sparkless glitch to drain anyone to death like that. So I have to assume it's the risk, which must be pretty damn impressive if it's keeping you from said endeavors."

"If anything happens to me, what do you think is going to happen to my mate and creation?" Prowl's optics went to Jazz. "I won't risk that."

"What if I told you I can put that processor of yours to work without direct risk?" the mech said. "Certainly not legal work, but that isn't what you care about. Gets you back into credits and gets him off the stage," he said, also turning to watch Jazz. "More than a few who wouldn't care about permission with that one...but you already know that." 

Prowl considered the mech, putting much of his attention to the proposal while still keeping tabs on Jazz. "I'm listening." 

The truth was, he was more than listening, but they both knew that. They were both at risk here. Either of them could be law enforcement, or worse. The potential for this to be a trap was high, especially for Prowl. The potential for reward was still high enough he was willing to dance.

"Why don't you stop by tomorrow," the mech said, and pulled a small datapad from subspace with a map pulled up on it. "I'll introduce you to my employer, we'll have some high grade, get to know each other." He shot Prowl a suggestive smirk.

Prowl accepted the datapad and hummed a maybe towards the invitation to the other's berth. "What should I call you?"

"Drift," the mech said carelessly. "Drop the designation a few times if you're worried about it. And bring your mate if you'd like, though to be honest, he seems a bit simple to me. Probably won't understand half of what you talk about. We're only interested in the mech who can pull off what you have." 

"He serves other purposes," Prowl gave a small, knowing smile and glance to the stage with the certainty that Drift would take it the wrong way. "I've heard of Drift already," he hummed with a glance at the map. "I'll be by."

"Excellent," the mech purred, then tipped his helm, and disappeared back into the crowd that parted for him wherever he stepped. Prowl watched him go, then turned his visible attention to watching his mate's dancing and his inner attention on data mining for Drift. He was still nursing the drink Drift had bought him when Jazz got off stage to join him. With more than half the cube left, he handed it over for his mate to finish.

"Still enjoying showing off?" Prowl smiled and nuzzled him.

"Am I ever," Jazz purred, sliding onto Prowl's lap to straddle him and was welcomed with a kiss and arms around his waist. "Who was that mech giving you looks?"

"Drift. A lieutenant in the local underworld," Prowl murmured. "It seems we have been more noticeable than I intended."

Jazz hummed thoughtfully and tapped light fingers over Prowl's dataport. "Home?" he suggested. "My shift is over."

"Home," Prowl rumbled with a kiss that melted Jazz and drew more than a couple whistles for them to keep going, but only served to remind Jazz that they were being watched and he pulled the kiss back to a chaste level.

As soon as they were in the privacy of their home, though, he had no such reservations and pushed Prowl against a wall as soon as the door had locked. His lover shivered, his field flaring bright and eager for Jazz's demanding mood. Joyful submission caressed Jazz from every line of Prowl's frame and field, something very different from the still submission of when he pushed too far.

"Love you," Prowl kissed him fiercely while his hands stroked Jazz's sides, up his back, encouraging him to take what they both wanted.

"Love you too," Jazz purred. "I love dancing for you, getting you hot for me." He reached one hand down between Prowl's legs to caress his valve cover while the other touched over their preferred hardline dataport, cable already in hand and ready to click in as soon as the port spiraled open. ~Do we need to be worried about that lieutenant?~

~Reports say he's there as muscle. Violent, not that bright but a survivor who's outlasted every challenge,~ Prowl kissed his way down Jazz's throat as his valve cover slid open, exposing the slick passage to light, knowing fingers. ~He's to be worried about only if he's got a reason to hurt us. I'm sure someone higher up sent him to get me.~

Jazz hummed as he caressed the platelets, swirling his fingers around the opening, just barely teasing at pushing into it. ~Should we move if we've been noticed?~ he asked, his reluctance at the idea clear. He liked his job.

~I'm going to the meeting he's asked me to in the morning,~ Prowl moaned and lifted a leg up to hook around Jazz's aft. ~This may be a good break, some protection and credits. As long as they don't ask me to do anything too risky, I think it could work in our favor. There's always a possibility we'll have to run, but I hope it's not this time.~

~All right,~ Jazz said, slipping two fingers in, hooking them, and pressing them into sensor points. ~Primus you're running hot.~

"You're touching me," Prowl moaned, shifting to speech out of knowledge of how much it worked for his mate. "Love you touching me. Love watching you dance because it makes you happy." His valve cycled around the fingers as he pressed into the touches. "I want you happy. I want you to be dancing somewhere you aren't at risk. I want you safe and content."

Jazz tilted his head back for his lover as he continued to stroke with slow, even touches. "Told you once I'd rather be with you in the gutters than rich without you," he murmured. "That is still true. I have you, I am content." He slid his fingers out and leaned back far enough to make optic contact as he slowly licked them clean, never breaking the gaze. 

Prowl shivered, his optics locked on the erotic sight as his processor helpfully supplied all the other ways that glossa could clean and please. "I'll never stop working to make you happy, to give you the existence you deserve."

Jazz gave him a knowing smirk as he slid one finger between his lips, pushing it completely into his mouth and holding there, sucking, before pulling it back out. "I know one way you can make me happy right now," he purred as his spike pressurized between them, nudging up against Prowl's pelvis. 

"Please, take me," Prowl arched, thrusting his hips into the contact. "Want you so bad. You make me feel like no one else can. I've never wanted anyone like I need you."

"Only because you ask so nicely," Jazz said in a low voice, thick with his own arousal, and he shifted to align with his lover, pushing in with a single, smooth stroke. "My perfect love," he moaned, shuddering as he seated himself fully and held there. Even after more than a metacycle the sensation of Prowl's valve lining and calipers working the ruffles of his new spike was processor-melting and Prowl always made the best of it.

"Anything for you," Prowl moaned, his optics flickering off as bliss flooded his awareness. "I will do anything for you, be anything for you. Just keep me, love me, use me."

"I'll keep you," Jazz breathed, pulling out slowly. "You're mine, forever." His engines pitched up with the effort it took to move as slow as he was and he trembled. "Oh, _love_ , you are so good," he gasped, and couldn't control himself, not with the way Prowl was rippling around him, and slammed back in. "So _tight._ "

Prowl shivered, trembling in pleasure at the words and the ability to drive his love over the edge so quickly. "You feel so good inside me," he moaned in reply. "Big, caressing, rubbing all the right ways. Feels so good to be tight around you, feel the changes in size. Please, take me hard, fill me until you're spent."

"So obedient," Jazz moaned, burying his face against Prowl's neck and jerking his hips into the slick heat, fingers gripping Prowl's waist. "So perfect, so good, such a good valve for your Lord, eager and shameless." His engines rumbled and whined with the blissful effort of bringing them both to overload, and the words, the total submission, the knowledge that his lover really would gladly spread his legs until Jazz was too drained to move, made his spike _throb_. He gave a shuddering cry as an image of Prowl on his back, knees fallen open, transfluid dripping from his bared valve, became suddenly vivid in his processor and he pushed it over the hardline. 

Prowl keened at it, at the pleasure and rightness it was to have Jazz see that, do that. His valve tightened, pulsing and working the spike inside him in the last moments before the overload swept through him and into Jazz, who seized and sobbed against him, unable to hold back any longer, overloading with a sharp surge of energy that all but knocked him offline and left both of them trembling and panting as they tumbled into berth, nowhere near done with each other. 


	16. Joining the Underworld

Drift worked not to pace or glare at his boss. He didn't like having nothing to do, especially not when his leader was around. It made him feel useless and he couldn't stand it. The knowing, amused way she kept looking at him now and then only deepened the sensation of annoyance. Most would be surprised that he didn't attack her, but few understood how Drift functioned. Engineer did. She'd won his loyalty back when she was a second lieutenant with a mixture of kindness, steady behavior, common sense and success. Though she was nothing like Gasket, she was everything like the long-gone guttersmech in all the ways that ways that mattered to Drift.

Right now, however, she was annoying him and seemed amused by it.

"He didn't seem anything spectacular," Drift grumbled, more to have something to complain about than anything else. He knew why his boss wanted this one who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, but right now, he was just frustrated with her glances and the waiting. He never had waited well.

"Processors like his rarely do," the deep glossy green femme purred. Her relatively light frame hid a similar processor. It was her smarts, not her frame, that had gotten her where she was and kept her there. "I have no doubt that he was designed to be in the shadows, controlling the strings that allowed his master to do what he pleased. Did you learn anything of why he ran?"

"No," Drift said. "Said what you told me to, and it caught his attention, that's all." He shifted on his pedes, watching the same monitors as she was. "Called his mate simple and he barely reacted. He's agreeable to 'facing mecha he barely knows for fun. I'm not sure there's any leverage there."

"Perhaps," she hummed, watching as the dark mid-sized alt mode drove up. "Reports do say that he's quite protective of his mate. Or at least the creation his mate is carrying. Either way, threats are not the way to keep a mech as good as he is and able to run bound to you. Like you, he wants stability and strength to stand behind. I'm sure of it. I'll win him the same way I won you."

Drift huffed a bit. As much as he didn't want to think about it as being won over, that was what she'd done. And she'd done it expertly, too. "I still like to know leverage points," he said. He was here as a familiar face for the new potential processor and to guard his boss against the slim possibility that Sharp was law or an enemy. 

That seemed like a very unlikely possibility, though. The pair had seemed honestly clueless in a way that was hard to fake when they'd first arrived. "Just in case," he added.

"Leverage is always a good thing," Engineer purred. "The bugs in their apartment will provide that soon enough."

"He doesn't look surprised he was tailed," Drift observed as they watched Prowl transform and turn to look at the mech he couldn't see. Prowl cocked his helm, waiting.

"No," Engineer hummed thoughtfully. ::Viper, show him in.::

::Sure thing Boss.::

They couldn't see Viper on the same screen as Prowl, but they could tell the moment Prowl saw the lithe guard, and as Engineer reached out to toggle the viewscreen, they both came into view.

Prowl followed Viper through the hallways of their minor intel center. Carefully chosen to be showy, but not to allow the grounder access to any location that could not be quickly wiped clean and abandoned without trouble. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking, other than he was taking in everything and not hiding that fact.

The door to the room slid open and Viper stepped aside so Prowl could look in.

"Do come in, Sharp," Engineer smiled at him. His wariness was a good thing, so long as it didn't create a problem. Some level of paranoia was a survival trait in the underworld. "I am Engineer, Drift's boss."

Prowl took them both in and she was pleased to note that he did not dismiss her for her small, light frame. Then he stepped inside and continued to look around even as he walked up to her, stopping outside easy teeking range but within reasonable speaking range.

"Drift indicated you are interested in hiring me," Prowl said simply, he focus on Engineer.

"Yes, more if you prove worth it," she nodded, easily rolling with the terms he used, even though they belong to another culture. "I know you can kill and break in without leaving much trace, but you don't want that kind of work." She paused when he nodded, accepting the confirmation. "What are your skills that would not be so risky to use?"

"I'm very good with credits, planning, organization, inventory," Prowl rattled off what he hoped were his useful skills.

"You were a high level manager," Engineer summarized, noting the tension hit and then leave him. "Security systems?"

"Easy enough," Prowl nodded.

"Sit, study, tell me what you think," she motioned to the station in the room and turned to settle in one of the plush chairs to watch.

Drift shifted to be between the newcomer and Engineer, getting a better look at him up close and in better light, confirming his suspicions. He couldn't understand a single glyph on the screens that Prowl was rapidly skimming through, but he understood strength and frames, and his suspicions were confirmed. 

Prowl hid it well, but his frame was strong, good material. What Drift couldn't understand was how a combat class frame like that had ended up being overpowered in the middle of the street, and why he looked as drab as he did. One needed credits, or connections, and who would get a frame like that without getting the combat protocols that could have gotten them both out of there?

Drift scowled. He had only heard about that attack after the fact, when one of the gang members had been dragged in for Engineer to interrogate once she had heard about the odd newcomer in their territory, and he didn't know how reliable the report was. 

If he could get this one into berth, it would give him a much better idea of how he moved and what kind of strength he had. Few mecha realized how much they gave away about themselves in that sort of activity. 

"This looks like a credit cleaning system," the mech said, and next to him, Engineer purred with pleasure. Drift didn't know how the credits worked, but he knew from the outside, the system was designed to not look like what it was.

"What would you change in it?" Engineer asked, and the conversation abruptly went way over Drift's helm. Half the words they used he didn't even know, but the two of them did, and Engineer was pleased. Right now, all he could do was watch the newcomer, pretend he wasn't as annoyed as he was by not understanding what they were talking about, and wait. He hated guard duty.

Eventually, an eternity later to Drift, Engineer stood. "I am impressed, Sharp. Drift will pay you for the orn and entertain you until your mate finishes dancing. We will discuss the terms of your employment tomorrow."

Prowl nodded, standing from the station smoothly. "Agreed."

The two mechs watched her leave, then Prowl looked at Drift.

Drift grinned back at him. "So," he said. "Boss likes what she sees, which is good enough for me. We have high grade here, great quality, or I can always take you back to the club. I'd hate to do that, though." 

Prowl chuckled. "High grade and pleasure is a more entertaining way to pass a couple joors."

"I always thought so," Drift said cheerfully. "Follow me, then," he said, and led Prowl back out into the hallways, sticking to the main routes as he made his way deeper into the building, deliberately leading Prowl past the slave storage rooms just to see his reaction. 

Nothing. 

Mech just didn't give anything. Drift hoped a few joors figuring his frame out would break some of that composure. At least it would be an entertaining way to spend the afternoon. One of the spare berthrooms was their destination. It was simple by Drift's current standard, but far nicer than the space Prowl was currently calling home. The berth was large and soft, with covers and pillows. Drift could feel Prowl look around, judging the place, but the mech gave no hint of what it thought of it.

"So tell me," Drift rumbled, coming up behind the smaller mech and running his hands down the frame, getting his first good feel of the construction. "Just between us, how do I know you aren't a threat?"

"You know I'm not worth much in a fight," Prowl answered simply, leaning willingly into the touch. It was a couple lifetimes ago since he'd had a lover other than Jazz. "Other than that, you don't. Just as I don't know if you intend anything other than what you stated."

"True," Drift said, and flexed claws out, pressing against the armor, testing its give as he pulled up along the sides. Barely a scratch with strength that should have buckled the plating of a mech of Prowl's status, and Prowl pressed into the touch with a pleasured sound. "You're not very good at not attracting attention, you know."

"Do you have any advice?" Prowl hummed, leaning back to press against Drift's chest. "I don't like drawing attention."

Drift's engines rumbled. "Making a hot scene out of yourselves in a nicer washrack two orns after you were in the gutters is a good place to start," he said, rubbing up behind him, his spike cover unlatching with an audible click but not sliding away yet.

Prowl allowed a chuckle. "That orn did not go according to plan," he admitted with a rueful tone and reached back to rub Drift's hips before one slid inward and he turned to face the other mech. "What have you got?" he purred, his fingers teasing the spike cover.

It snapped back under the touch, the tip starting to slide out, large enough to fill Prowl's palm. "Sick of being on top?" Drift chuckled, and placed his hand right in the center of Prowl's chest, and shoved back, measuring how far the medium amount of force was able to push him. He felt the mass of the frame, the lock of tension that could have resisted the move completely before it relaxed and Prowl moved with the push, willingly taking a step back towards the berth. "I can help with that."

"I'm sure you can," Prowl rumbled, excited by the prospect of a relative equal that was willing to play rough. The spike he slid his palm along was long and thick, ridged with whorls and nodules. It would feel _good_ , and nothing like what Jazz felt like inside him.

Drift tried another push, this one near the top of his strength, and couldn't tell how much Prowl's backwards step was him and how much was faked, something that was irritating to the large grounder but nowhere near a turn-off. This mech still had no idea how to handle himself in a fight, so if it ever came to that, Drift could take him down. 

This kind of armor would be such a waste to keep untrained, though, if Engineer could indeed win him over. Drift still wasn't sure what Prowl wanted, other than credits and safety, but he was sure he would accept combat training if it meant keeping his mate and creation safe.

Only if he could be won over, though. Drift smirked to himself as he looked down over the frame, his fully extended spike nudging up against Prowl's abdomen. There would be time later to measure threat level, once he'd felt the frame all over. For now... he could feel safe enough to lose himself in the other's frame, and he truly hoped the valve was the same high quality as the rest of him.

Compliant so far, it caught Drift a bit by surprise when Prowl moved to reverse their positions and gave Drift a light shove to the berth. Not even an effort to knock him down, just a pointed statement that he wanted Drift on his back. All right, he was willing to play. He sat and relaxed back, patting his thigh in invitation for Prowl to hop on if that was what he wanted, not bothering to tone down his leer. "Or maybe not so sick of being on top?" he chuckled.

Prowl returned the look with a bit of a smirk and straddled Drift's hips. "I got enough of being still and taking it when I got paid to." He stretched out, bracing his hands against Drift's shoulders and rubbed his platelets and valve rim along the deliciously large spike. "I know I can get off this way. It's not nearly as easy with you on top."

It felt good, but it also told Drift just how much mass was under that armor. It was definitely war-frame grade all the way down. The mech was heavy for his size, and unnaturally silent. He tensed the hydraulics in his hips, lifting himself just a fraction off the berth, pressing in, eager for a taste of something as high-quality as the rest of the frame. "So you go for what you want," he rumbled. "Good trait to have."

"Only reason I've lasted this long," Prowl rumbled, shifting and lifting his hips up before sliding down and back, nudging the large head of the spike against his valve rim before sinking down with a pleasured moan. He kept his valve relaxed, allowing the large spike to penetrate him uncontested, simply enjoying it for that first rush of sensation.

Drift held quiet and still while he moved, his frame only giving the smallest of shivers in response to being sheathed. "How long is that?" he purred once Prowl had settled himself down in his lap, twitching his hips up ever so slightly.

Prowl bought himself a moment by cycling his valve, rubbing the calipers along the complex shaft and squeezing the lining tight before continuing the cycle as he lifted up, still braced forward and fully on Drift's shoulders. It was a small act of dominance, but he was being allowed it so he took it.

"Too long," Prowl finally answered about halfway through his upward motion. "Long enough to outlast dozens of others."

Drift just relaxed and enjoyed his revving engines and the unquestionably talented valve. Reclining on one arm, he lifted his other hand and curled it around Prowl's waist, squeezing until he felt the plating dent, just barely. "You're a survivor then," he said, then groaned as Prowl paused to flex his rim right around the sensor-heavy tip of his spike. He tightened his grip, sinking claws in, testing the other's resilience to a small amount of pain in a sensitive area of his frame.

"I don't appreciate pain," Prowl's response came smoothly, without so much as a flicker in his voice, field or actions. He continued to move smoothly, his charge rising as he ensured Drift's spike rubbed him the right way.

"But you can handle it, clearly," Drift said, fighting against the desire to test that theory further. Engineer had been very clear, this one was to be wooed. He relaxed the claws, but kept his hands tight around the hips as he thrust up. "So tell me about yourself," he groaned, head falling back a little. "You know, the fun bits," he added with a smirk and a rapid upwards roll.

Prowl stilled, Drift's spike deep inside him as he regarded the mech under him for almost too long. He began to move again, still silent before he found the answer. "There are no fun bits. I don't anticipate there will be for a long time."

"I'd say this is pretty fun," Drift rumbled, tucking the unusual pause away to show Engineer later. "You certainly know what you're doing with this, at least," he said as he took a moment to enjoy the intricate rippling and the way it was pushing his charge up. "You could rival a pleasurebot with that."

"I think that says more of your existence than mine," Prowl said quietly, annoyed by this talk, but having expected it, it didn't show. "It only takes a few tries to learn, so long as you have someone you want to please."

Drift paused for a moment, the words feeling oddly like pity, something he did _not_ enjoy. "You'll find someone like that is a liability out here," he growled. "A good first lesson. Strip yourself of weakness."

"That mech is long gone," Prowl shrugged. "It is a liability anywhere."

Not a flicker of change in the field or composure, Drift noted. So either the mate didn't matter, or the mech was a damn good liar. Or both. Engineer wanted to know which one, but this obviously wasn't the way to find out. 

Of course, it was all a moot point if their interests all aligned and the mech worked for them willingly, which seemed likely at this point, but Drift still liked to know anyone's weak points. He gave another quick thrust upwards. "At least you're not totally clueless," he said, more than happy at this point to just enjoy the physical sensations. He shifted experimentally, seeing if the other would be easy to roll into his back or if he would resist the move. 

He was half surprised when Prowl didn't. The movement was fairly smooth, assisted by a mech who'd done it more than a few times. For his part Prowl was more than willing to go silent and simply allow Drift to get off. His spark was no longer in this any more than when he was paid. An overload was to be accepted, but not expected.

Drift settled in above him, clearly more at ease with being the one in control, judging from the way his frame started rocking harder almost as soon as Prowl was on his back. One hand stayed on Prowl's hip, holding for leverage, and the other came up to curl around his helm as Drift's taller frame brought Prowl's face level with the other mech's neck. "Much better," Drift groaned, keeping the thrusts slow but strong. 

It was a rhythm Prowl relaxed into, easily accepting the submissive position and lowered expectations that came with it. Jazz could overload him in kliks like this. With Drift, he accepted the pleasure he received and held no expectations for the end.

And kliks, it seemed, were all it was going to take Drift, who was panting heavily by the end of just a few, easy and simple to overload the way any spike-focused mecha who didn't care about the frame they buried into tended to be. His overload came with a roar and a full-frame shudder as heat flooded into Prowl's valve. 

It felt good, but not enough for an overload. Not enough for Prowl to even try to claim one. So he relaxed, accepted the heat, the charge, the pleasure for what it was and let go of any need to continue.

Drift shivered through the shocks, gripping the frame beneath him tightly until they had faded away before he lifted up, slid his arms around under Prowl, and rolled onto his back, bringing Prowl over him. "Sorry," he grinned, and lifted his knees, bringing them up for Prowl to lean against. He patted his hip invitingly. "I'm told I have an enjoyable spike, why don't you relax and enjoy it? That could be hot to watch."

Prowl debated for a few nanokliks. "Is the questioning over with?"

"It's over with," Drift assured him. "You want some high grade or something first?" 

"No need," Prowl settled himself into a processor set he had little use for but was still glad he'd learned. He'd been very young the last time he'd performed, but he remembered how to give a good show. It was easier to do that than anything else he could think of doing right now, and left him plenty of free processor space to think and analyze. 

* * *

Jazz noticed as soon as Prowl and the same larger mech from the night before came into the club. He watched for a moment before settling back into the rhythm of the music, trying to ignore the mental images of his lover in the other's berth. He paid little attention to them until Drift had bought high grade for Prowl, bid him farewell, and left. His shift was only a few kliks from officially ending, but... 

::You're late. Want a better dance?:: he asked.

::If it's in private,:: Prowl purred in reply. ::I've had quite enough of general mecha for company for one orn.::

::That sounds so much better,:: Jazz said, more than happy to get off the stage and into his lover's arms. Joors of dancing with nothing to think about but what Prowl was doing had been an uncomfortable mix of distressing, frustrating, and arousing. ::End of this song and I'm done.::

::Good,:: Prowl's soft rumble spoke of intense eagerness to be with his mate in the relative privacy of their small apartment. ::Soon you'll be able to dance where there is less risk of being grabbed.::

::You'll still come watch me, though,:: Jazz said. ::Even if I don't need you to beat the hoards off.:: He grinned playfully as he bent backwards, putting his hands on the stage and looking right at Prowl.

::Of course,:: Prowl's engine revved. ::I never get enough of watching you enjoy yourself.::

Jazz smirked and sent his lover a series of images of them in a richly furnished room with himself on his back, one hand wrapped around his spike and the other pushing his fingers into his valve. ::Like that?:: he asked, straightening on the stage and taking his dance partner's leg in hand, bending the other mech over backwards, pressing down over him.

Prowl nearly choked on the energon he was drinking as his entire frame gave a shudder. ::You're trying to get me to make a scene again,:: he growled, though he didn't manage to sound as reprimanding as he wanted to. The image was simply too good.

::Oh, that was too much fun not to try again,:: Jazz said, completely unintimidated. ::And don't even try to tell me you didn't enjoy yourself.:: He helped his partner back up, spun him, and ran his leg up along the other mech's while he was pushed down in turn. ::Imagine what I could have done with an entire song,:: he said as they froze together in the seductive finish pose, Jazz bent over backwards, hips thrust up flush against the other's.

::I'm sure I won't have to for long,:: Prowl's optics were locked on his lover's form. ::You'll make sure of that.::

Jazz shivered, entirely aware that the entire room was watching him and his partner, but only concerned with keeping Prowl's gaze. ::You wanna find a dark corner?:: he asked as he straightened, carefully untangling from the other. ::Get me on my knees for you? Hold my head and use my mouth?:: He slipped off the stage and went straight to his mate, who was staring at him with huge optics, and climbed into his lap. "Pretend like we can't see everyone watching when we know they all are?"

Prowl's vents stuttered. Yes, he absolutely wanted to. He wanted the entire universe to know that this mech was _his_ , but Drift's words came back to him. "Perhaps another orn," he murmured, claiming a heated kiss anyway before giving his barely-touched drink to his lover. "I'd rather enjoy you in private tonight."

"Even better," Jazz said, then tipped his head back to take a long swallow, exposing his neck while he drank. Then, cube empty, he set it on the table and nuzzled his helm to Prowl's. "Need a berth to spread my legs as wide as I want to, anyway," he said in a deep purr, well aware that he had the attention of everyone in audio range.

"Such a tease," Prowl rumbled, sliding his hands along his lover's back. "Up. The sooner we're home, the sooner I can indulge you."

Jazz grinned and leaned in to nip at Prowl's mouth. "Are you _sure_ you don't want to just spike me right here?" he murmured, twitching his hips forward just a touch, rubbing their plating together. "No one would be able to see anything..." And almost as if to prove that point, he slid his valve cover back.

Prowl shuddered, his ventilations picking up rapidly enough to draw even more attention to them. It was an effort to keep his panel closed and he knew his love could feel it. "Strata." Warning and plea all at once even as his hands closed around Jazz's hips and he pressed forward to claim a real kiss, demanding and full of the fire Jazz invoked in him.

Jazz hummed back against his mouth as he slid back off his lover's lap, far too turned on to care about the looks they were getting. He stood, drawing Prowl up with him without breaking the kiss. "You're right," he purred once they were both standing. "I'm being inappropriate, let's go home and have a quiet, polite evening." 

"Home yes," Prowl rumbled, arm around Jazz's waist as he guided his lover out. "Quiet and polite, no."

"If you insist," Jazz said, grinning, and leaned against Prowl as the over-energized buzz from downing the cube of high grade sank in. He stayed quiet while they walked, and then drove, and managed to refrain from jumping his lover in the hallways, but once through the door, he had Prowl down on his back on the berth and was pressing a clashing kiss against his mouth. "So how was he?" he asked, grinding their hips together. "Drift, what did you do with him?"

"Spike-centric, self-centered," Prowl grumbled between kisses, his spike already pressurizing between them. "Not a berth I'm keen on returning to, though he wasn't mean."

"Aw," Jazz pouted. "That's no fun." He nipped his way down Prowl's jaw and neck, then snaked down his body, sliding backwards until he was crouched between his legs, taking his spike in hand and running his glossa up along the extended length and circling around the tip. 

Prowl moaned, his time with Drift long gone from his cares now. He reached down to stroke Jazz's helm. "But you are. Always the one others have to strive to match."

Jazz pressed his lips against his lover and hummed, smiling. "No one's come close, have they," he said, x-venting hot air over the spike, caressing it with his mouth.

"No," Prowl shivered and moaned. One hand dropped to the berth to have something to grab while the other continued to stroke Jazz's helm. "No one turns me on like you do. No one's like my Strata."

Jazz gave a delighted purr. "You wouldn't believe how much it turns me on just thinking about this," he said, pulling another long lick up the underside. "Gets me so slick. Tell me you're going to spike until I can't see anymore, Sharp, please," he moaned. 

"Oh much more than that," Prowl's growl was full of promise as he rocked his hips up. "You're going to need painkillers to dance tomorrow night. First you're going to swallow for me. Then I'll reward that tight valve of yours."

Jazz groaned with a full-framed shiver at the words and his fingers tightened. "Promise," he breathed, mouthing his way up to the tip. "Promise you'll use me like the slut I am," he said, before dipping his head down, filling his mouth completely with his lover's spike, pushing until it hit his intake.

"My slut, and only mine," Prowl growled into a deep moan of pleasure. "You do as I please, spread your legs only for me. Oh, yes. Love that mouth of yours. You learned so quickly to be so good."

Jazz whined softly in honest joy at the praise, swallowing down around the spike and rubbing his glossa against the underside, and reached between Prowl's legs to press a hand over the valve cover, palming at it. He raised his head slowly, and gasped as he lifted off the spike for a moment. "For you," he managed, shivering when the cover slid away and his fingers slipped over lubricated platelets. "To pleasure you," he said, before he dropped his head again.

Any response beyond a deep moan and wildly pleasured field was lost to the combined sensations. Prowl's hips rolled up, pressing deeper into the willing intake and trying to capture the fingers teasing his entrance. He'd cleaned up, there wasn't a trace of Drift in there, but despite the mild soreness the mech's girth had created any attention from Jazz left him wanting more.

Jazz redoubled his efforts, pressing his fingers in deeper in response to the encouraging sounds his lover was making, spreading them apart once they were inside and twisting his wrist while he hummed around the spike. Every movement, every hum, designed to drive his lover to ecstasy that Jazz took completely and utter joy in giving. True to Prowl's words, it didn't take long before they both felt him lose the fight with self-control and buck up sharply into Jazz's mouth with a moaning keen.

Hot, thick, charged fluid pumped into Jazz's intake, causing all the sensors there to tingle as he swallowed easily, holding around the spike until the hardest charges had faded before pulling up and off, glancing up at Prowl with a pleading whine. 

Prowl gave him a lust-filled look and pulled him forward before rolling to his side and pressing Jazz's shoulders to the berth. One hand reached back to pull his aft up, hand dipping suggestively between his legs. 

"Now that's a good look for you too," he kissed his lover's cheek and allowed his hands to roam while he worked his way to kneeling between Jazz's spread knees. "Aft up, ready to take every spike, just wanting to be filled up." His voice continued to roll over Jazz as he thrust forward, sinking into the valve he so enjoyed filling with a deep moan. "So tight despite all the use." He pulled out and drove forward again. "Frag you're good."

Jazz fisted at the berth, helm lowered against it, pushed forward with every hard drive from behind. "Anything for you," he moaned. "Anything, always, Sharp, you're so good to me."

"Because you earn it," Prowl growled, grinding against Jazz's aft as he leaned further forward, covering his lover. "You please me. You do well. You earn your rewards," he panted near Jazz's audial. "You feel so good."

Jazz arched up against him, moaning, closer to overload than he ever should have been by this point, but the entire evening spent imagining Prowl in another's berth had left him with a persistent, stubborn charge that was all too ready to explode with just the barest push. 

"Sharp," he gasped, holding on as long as he could, "Ah--Sharp--so close, lover, _please_ \--" He broke off with a shuddering keen when Prowl grabbed him and slammed forward, striking the back of his valve with perfect precision, and with sensory stimulation like _that_ , Jazz lasted less than a dozen more strokes before screaming into the berth as overload washed over him.

He was only dimly aware that his lover didn't even slow down through it, and was still driving into him when he recovered, the slide and pressure driving his charge up before the overload even fully faded, but this time, with the lingering arousal from earlier washed out, he was much more in control of what he was doing. He cycled his valve, shifting his focus back to pleasuring the spike filling him. "Sharp," he moaned. "Just like that, yes, _yes!_ "

The rumble of approval from above rewarded his efforts as it was Prowl's turn to struggle not to overload as he continued the deep, pounding rhythm into his lover's tight, rippling, massaging valve.

Jazz moaned and gasped beneath him, his frame rolling with Prowl's, moving in a way that pushed his aft up into every thrust. His fingers dug into the thin padding of the berth for leverage and his pedes hooked around the backs of Prowl's legs, holding him tight. "Spike me so well," he moaned, almost incoherent again after just a matter of kliks. "Fill me so _hot_ \-- _deep_ \--"

"Love how you react, such a wanton little whore for me," Prowl growled, barely audible over his fans vents. He groaned and shuddered, his rhythm breaking slightly. Denta bit into Jazz's back collar armor, sending the next growl vibrating through Jazz's entire frame.

Three more hard thrusts and Prowl roared against him, grinding their interface arrays together with each thick burst of transfluid he pumped into quivering, overloading valve that gripped around him. Jazz seized beneath him, jerking with each rush of fluid, his sobs muffled against the berth that he bit down on, tearing through the lining. 

They slumped down within nanokliks of each other, panting heavily and armor loose to help expel the heat. Jazz gave a shuddering whine as Prowl pulled out, his valve still tight around his lover, protesting the absence but needing to disconnect in order for him to roll onto his back, where he all but collapsed. 

"Love it so much when you use me," Jazz whispered, voice still fuzzy with static. "Like it should have always been."

"Yes," Prowl purred deeply, pressed as close as he could to his lover while they cooled down. "It's worth all the risk."

Jazz hummed contentedly, fingers up against Prowl's dataport. ~This job, this...whatever it is, is it safe?~ he asked as soon as he plugged in.

~As far as underworld jobs go, yes,~ Prowl sighed, relaxing as he cooled off. ~The risk relative to the reward is very low given our current options. Engineer is the local underworld boss. She has the rank to protect us quite well, and pay even better. She wants me for my processor, so the work I'm doing isn't going to risk me directly like working the streets. It will also make me valuable. It's easy to replace muscle. Replacing the mech who designed your credit cleaning system is much more difficult.~

~How do we know they don't work for him and are just going to trap us?~ Jazz asked. ~It seems too easy.~

~I have found no connection between him and Engineer,~ Prowl said with honest certainty. ~If they figure it out and turn on us, we'll have credits and can run again.~

Jazz nodded. It wasn't legal, and that was more of a risk than he wanted to take, but he also knew they needed credits, and badly. His income was just barely enough to cover rent and the supplements that the twins needed, which they couldn't even buy in bulk to help with the cost lest they risk attracting attention that way. Once he started actively building the protoforms, the cost would go up again. 

~Prowl?~ he murmured, tracing his fingers up and down Prowl's chassis. He received a pulse of love and reassurance across the hardline, encouraging him to speak. ~I'd like to live in Praxus, after the twins separate,~ Jazz said. ~If it's possible. I want them to know you in Praxian form, _your_ form. I miss that form.~

~I can't take that look again,~ Prowl warned him. ~Praxian yes, but not my original design. We can work on that. Perhaps a transfer, perhaps a long vacation. Possibly by leaving her employ completely. I will keep that in mind.~

~I know,~ Jazz sighed, then smiled wistfully. ~Your original frame would have looked so beautiful sprawled out beneath mine.~

Prowl shivered. ~I would have enjoyed that. I _will_ enjoy that. After we rid the world of _him_ , we can be ourselves again.~ He shifted to display himself, his legs spread and valve cover open. ~For now, would my Lord still enjoy my frame?~

Jazz groaned and gave a hard shudder as the heat and scent of a lubricated valve hit him, setting circuits and sensors deep in his frame alight with desire. ~More than anything,~ he whispered as he lifted himself up. ~My beautiful, blissful seneschal,~ he crooned, bringing their hips together, his spike extending out to nudge at the slick opening before he pressed in. ~So perfect for me, such a willing frame for me,~ Jazz purred over the hardline as their vocalizers moaned in unison, and as Jazz seated himself completely inside, they were lost to the world for the precious joors when everything could be perfect and right and complete.

* * *

Jazz was a combination of anticipation and anxiety, half excited for this orn and half dreading it. Two decaorns into working for Engineer and Prowl had gotten Drift to spar with him a few times. Now he was flat-out paying the mech to train him. Those lessons were then passed on to Jazz, which made for some very interesting foreplay.

Today, however, Jazz was to watch a match between Drift and Prowl, so he could see some of the trickier moves performed by someone who really knew how to use them, and had. And as much as he knew Prowl did not enjoy Drift's berth, the few times he'd been in it, Jazz couldn't stop his engines from revving whenever he pictured the larger mech over his lover.

He felt bad, he really did, but every time he imagined it Prowl was enjoying himself immensely, and that... Jazz shivered from where he watched from the wall. It really was too bad the mech wasn't a good lover. 

"Ready?" Drift rumbled at Prowl as he stalked to the center of the room. 

"Yes," Prowl sank into a defensive crouch, his full attention on his opponent and on recording every possible detail of what was happening.

For once Jazz watched without trying to catch Prowl's attention at all as the match began and the two mecha moved and dodged around each other, Drift pressing a hard offensive that was just barely more than Prowl could handle without trouble. Prowl had spoken of Drift as not terribly bright in most things, simple and uneducated as well, but when it came to this, he was a master. Intuitive, with an understanding of frames and how they worked based entirely on hard-learned experience that had only been strengthened since coming to work for Engineer. 

"Your best advantages are your frames, both of you," Drift said as Prowl lifted his hand to block a stroke towards his face but an instant later had to stumble away from the kick. "However you got them, they're top grade. Sturdy, strong, resilient, and most importantly, silent. Listen when I move, you can hear the hydraulics that indicate where I'm going next." 

Jazz tried, but all he could hear was indiscriminate noise. Prowl, however, was nodding, optics focused sharply. 

"With time you'll learn how to predict movement with sound as much as sight and teek," Drift said. He caught Prowl by surprise with an undercut that forced the smaller mech three steps back, and in the middle of one of them, Drift crouched and lashed out with his feet, swiping Prowl's legs out from under him. 

As he picked himself up, Drift lifted his arm over his head, mimicking a forward thrown punch, then repeated the same undercut. "Hear the difference?" 

Jazz couldn't from where he was, but Prowl was concentrating intensely as Drift repeated the movements. 

"You will in time," Drift assured him. 

Prowl nodded as he settled into a defensive stance once more. "I believe I heard it. It will be time. I will learn."

Drift grinned at him. "That I believe. You're no natural fighter, but you've got the spark and focus."

This time Prowl struck, aiming squarely for over Drift's spark. It was a blow that with Prowl's strength would likely crush, or at least crack the chamber of the average street mecha if it connected. It wasn't about technique, but a practical strike that would end most fights quickly.

Drift's hands shot up just in time, catching the fist before it could connect, microns away from his armor, grinning. "Good placement," he said, just before he twisted and pulled, aiming to drag Prowl to the floor and get the advantage. 

Prowl went, but at the last moment, pulled up with the strength that his frame gave him and performed a twist of his own, hooking around Drift's leg and yanking, sending them both toppling down in a heap. Drift aimed with his elbow, connecting with Prowl's neck in a blow that made Jazz wince sympathetically. That had to _hurt_. Yet they knew what Drift didn't, and wouldn't, and that was just what _pain_ meant to the pair.

Prowl didn't so much as react, beyond the shift the kinetic force put on his frame. He cared about minimizing damage to himself. Pain was irrelevant.

So was anything remotely resembling honor or fair play.

With his position halfway on top of Drift and their limbs tangled up, Prowl used the opening to drive his full strength up into Drift's interface panels. The mech winced and let out a startled grunt while Jazz smirked at the way his frame curled ever so slightly. 

"Frag," Drift half-laughed, half-groaned, then the noise shifted into a growl as the match became less of that and more of an all out brawl between the two as they struggled together, each trying to pin the other. It was never a question of who'd win, or even by now much, but about how long Drift would remember that he was teaching and not fighting. Prowl had once said that the less it took him to induce a brawl and be pinned, the better he was getting. It meant that he was reaching the point of threatening Drift that much faster.

Jazz wasn't sure if a breem and a half was good, but the genuinely triumphant look Drift had when he got Prowl pinned told Jazz that Prowl hadn't been kidding. That last half klik had been a real fight to Drift. He shifted his weight, waiting for Drift to release his lover from the pin, growing more concerned about the savage growl that was rising in the fighter's chassis and the increasingly predatory look he was giving his pin. Jazz frowned. He knew that look, intimately. 

He took a step forward, his own engines beginning to growl. He knew he was no match for this one, but if he got too interested in Prowl, he was going to do what he could. He recognized the sudden shift in his mate from accepting the pin to tensing for a fight.

The sound and warning from under him put a grin on Drift's face and he lifted his head, then released the pin. "I've seen you dance, you move well," he said. "You'll both be excellent once you're trained." 

"Thank you," Prowl said as they stood. "It's fine if he wants to frag me, Strata," his voice held an approving and pleased sub-harmonic but the tone of a command. "It will be neither first nor last time."

"An enjoyable form of payment," Drift rumbled. He eyed Jazz. "Wouldn't mind more of it if you'd like more direct lessons." 

Jazz hummed thoughtfully. "I've been fragged for worse reasons," he said. "Training us together would be more efficient."

Prowl growled deeply, but he throttled his engine back and really _looked_ at Drift in a way that made the fighter uncomfortable. When Prowl moved to stalk around him in a full circle in silent judgment Drift had to work not to squirm. 

"We could do worse, much worse, but not while he's building the protoform unless you're trying to court us for a triad. I can teach you how to be a lover, even if it takes a while," Prowl decided.

Drift scoffed. "Pit no," he said. "Like I'd want a slagging triad or a sparkling. Fine, only credits while he's building the protoform, and I'm not taking lessons on how to frag."

"You don't need any lessons on how to frag," Prowl's harmonics made a clear difference between that and lover clear. "I get to watch when you're with him."

Jazz had trouble keeping the rev of his engine down. Prowl finished his stalk around Drift and stepped back, and Jazz came up behind him, resting his chin on his mate's shoulder as they both looked at Drift, who looked skeptically back. 

"Fine," the bigger mech finally said, waving a hand carelessly. "But no _lover_ lessons," he added, spitting the glyph out disdainfully. 

"I'm agreeable," Jazz murmured against Prowl's audial.

"Then agreed," Prowl nodded, turning his helm to claim a strut-melting kiss from Jazz.

Jazz pushed back into it with a delighted shudder and heard Drift's engines start to rumble. 

"First payment in advance?" Drift said, voice a deep growl.

Prowl gave Jazz a look and got a grin for it. "Agreed," he told Drift. "Do you want his mouth or valve? I get the other."

"Valve," Drift said immediately. "Been wondering about those other uses he has that you like so much." He frowned at Prowl. "Thought you were just going to watch."

"I can, but then you end up watching us and you don't get a second round," Prowl offered the choice.

Drift just shrugged, because didn't _that_ sound like an exercise in self-control that wasn't worth having. "Fine, you take his mouth," he said, walking around behind them, wasting no time in reaching between Jazz's legs to rub at his cover, which slid away at the first brush of contact. "Eager," he rumbled approvingly. 

Jazz just hummed as he pressed his face against Prowl's neck and nuzzled. ::You are all right with this?:: he commed. 

::For now, with Drift,:: Prowl responded as he stepped away, allowing Jazz to get on all fours. Prowl's spike cover snapped open as he knelt in front of his lover, his spike already half pressurized. ::I don't expect it will hold true with many. Not while our creations are potentially at stake. If they have a little of Drift in them, I can live with that. He's strong and attractive.::

::I am sure you will fill me so often while the protoforms are building that any influence he manages to pass on will not be noticeable,:: Jazz said as he pressed his lips to Prowl's spike, as eager as always to enjoy what was, for him, a truly euphoric act of worship. "He loves me on my knees," Jazz purred to Drift, happily keeping up their charade that Prowl was largely interested in him for his frame and abilities. 

Drift's engines gave a hard rev and in the next moment, the new spike was nudging up against his valve, pressing eagerly forward without testing for lubrication, which there was thankfully plenty of.

"And he loves being filled, and to hear me talk to him," Prowl rumbled. ::Are you okay?:: he asked, internally wincing at the size of the spike going into his mate. It left Prowl sore, but he never lubricated quite like Jazz did. 

::How much worse have I learned to enjoy?:: Jazz answered, squirming his hips down, pushing back against Drift with a low groan. This valve had been specifically designed and sized for Prowl, but that didn't mean it couldn't stretch, and there was something truly satisfying about feeling another violating a space that Vortex had been so absolutely possessive over. 

"So I see," Drift said, now doing a hands-on workover of Jazz's frame the way he had with Prowl's, testing the give of the armor, and carefully, watching for the reactions of both parties, digging his claws into the hips to pull himself forward. Jazz shivered and frowned, but didn't so much as pause in his attention to Prowl's spike. He swallowed it easily, working his intake around the textured length he loved so much.

Prowl growled at Drift though, when the claws dug in. "No damage." He didn't stop thrusting into Jazz's mouth, his optics half-shuttered in pleasure.

"Fine," Drift rumbled, easing his hips slightly from side to side as he worked his way in, then stopped with a chassis-filling groan when his pelvis finally came flush to Jazz's aft. He held there to watch the carrier pleasing his mate, using a mix of his fingers, lips, glossa and intake in motions so fluid and easy they had to be well-practiced. And the look of open bliss on Jazz's face was telling enough. "Slagger loves it," he chuckled, starting in on shallow thrusts. 

"Oh he does. He's my little slut. Utterly perfect for what he is," Prowl said, his voice deepening from his pleasure and because he knew the exact pitch that made Jazz shiver. "He gets off on pleasing me, pleasuring me, anywhere, any way."

Drift grinned. "Knew about the anywhere part," he said, as Jazz moaned around his mate's spike while pushing his aft back against the larger one. "Frag, must be nice, knows what he's doing, too." 

Privately, Jazz smirked and rippled his valve with half the attention he would normally pay to Prowl, far more focused on the mental arousal of swallowing his lover and feeling the pleasure in that field caressing his own. ::I'm going to take you good and hard later,:: he purred, confident that Drift had no idea how to hack a comm frequency. ::Show you who the real slut is.::

"Oh yes," Prowl moaned, responding to them both. ::I'm going to worship your spike, your frame. Kneel and swallow and spread my legs and plead for more.::

::Shameless for me,:: Jazz crooned, barely noticing Drift anymore beyond the enjoyable stretch that stopped just short of being painful. He dipped his head, swallowing and humming with perfectly-pitched vibrations designed to both heighten the pleasure and hold Prowl where he was, using the pitch to prevent him from overloading too quickly.

Prowl moaned, his hands on Jazz's helm as he allowed his mate to do all the work. It was blissful, knowing this wasn't because Prowl was powerful, but because Jazz loved him enough that pleasuring him was a pleasure itself. Prowl only trusted that truth because it was true for him. He knew, and he did not question.

"So good, Strata," Prowl gasped. "Such a good pet. You exist to please me and you do it well."

Jazz pulled off the spike with a gasp and a full-framed shudder as the friction and pull in his valve started to work into the rest of his systems. He dragged his lips along the length in his hand, nuzzling his face against it, worshiping and loving in every touch. "Anything for you," he murmured before swallowing again. 

"Frag," Drift gasped, watching the display, completely turned on by the dominance Prowl had over his mate, remembering all the times he had pushed that dominant mech down and fragged him into the ground. "Nn, yes," he moaned, his head falling back as the speed of his thrusts picked up, still worked up from the fight and eager for release. 

"You want this on your face, don't you?" Prowl growled, shaking from the charge in him. "You want the whole city to see me on you. It turns you on, doesn't it, to show off that you're owned."

Jazz whined and dragged his glossa up the spike, pressing his mouth to the tip and massaging it. "Please yes," he gasped. "Overload on me, cover me, show everyone what a slut I am for you, master, _yes_." 

Behind him, Drift pounded in as he watched, shaking as he tried to hold on long enough to watch, engines revving.

It was all Prowl could take and he roared as the overload crashed through him, rushing up from his spike, into his spark and then outward against to focus on the thin line of liquid heat that pumped through his spike to spray onto Jazz's lips.

Jazz tipped his face up, optics half shuttered but meeting Prowl's gaze. "Thank you," he moaned, and when Drift roared and slammed into his valve, shooting deep, shook in his own overload, optics flickering from the charge. 

Jazz stayed as still as he could, trembling until the shocks faded, leaving him content but nowhere near as satisfied as Prowl could make him. When the movement behind him stopped, he licked his lips slowly, drawing the transfluid on them into his mouth. 

"Slagging hot," Drift groaned as he slumped while the pair continued to look at each other with darkened optics.

"He is," Prowl continued to stroke the sides of Jazz's helm. He took a step back and guided Jazz forward, off Drift's spike and to his pedes in a single motion, only barely touching the mech. To Drift it was a show of power and dominance. For Jazz and Prowl, it was a mark of their love and understanding.

The kiss Prowl claimed was the same, absolutely domineering to Drift's optic, but a sign of his absolute devotion to Jazz.

"You do look good covered in my release," Prowl purred deeply. ::I look forward to being covered in yours, and licking mine off you.:: He looked up at Drift. "I think sparring is done for the orn."

Drift waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal as he stood up and retracted his spike, sated by the intense release and pleased with himself for all the times he'd taken the obvious top in this pair. "I think you'll be able to save your credits for a while," he chuckled. "His frag can count as your payment for this round, we'll start his training next time." He stalked off with a pleased rumbling in his engines, knowing Prowl knew the way out, and didn't need escorting from this part of the city. 

::Covered, filled, and still begging me for more,:: Jazz said, looking lovingly up at his mate. ::Begging for me to use you.:: He slid his leg up along Prowl's. "Home, please?"

"If you think you can keep your cover closed that long," Prowl teased him and guided his mate out. ::Do you want to clean up first? A cloth and my office are on the way.::

::That sounds marvelous,:: Jazz said, nuzzling Prowl as they walked. ::Slagging uncreative brute, I see why you don't enjoy him. I'd like to be clean for you. And bonus,:: he added brightly, ::Your office has a locking door.::

Prowl laughed across the comm but kept his frame free of it. ::Yes. A big spike but very little else. I can suggest he'd enjoy you sucking him off, if you'd prefer that. Otherwise he'll be quite content with a basic repeat of today.::

There was a brief pause, long enough for Prowl to notice before Jazz answered. ::No, don't suggest that,:: he said, tone darker. ::I like to imagine the look on _his_ face if he could see.::

::It feels good, to have what he valued so much used by another,:: Prowl said, sure of his assessment. The door to his office slid open, though it was no less private a place to talk than the hall.

::Yes,:: Jazz agreed, going for the cleaning supplies right away. ::One orn we'll have him and I'll show him, every single spike that wasn't his and how much better they all were. Even that gang of thugs was more welcome.::

::We will show him that, and how strong we've become, and what a couple _should_ be,:: Prowl tried not to growl as he watched Jazz clean up. ::Then we'll remove his spark from the world and bond before his gray frame.::

Jazz shivered. ::Force him to watch our ecstasy while he suffers and gutters,:: he breathed, more turned on by the idea of Vortex in pain than he ever would have thought possible. He tossed the soiled rag away to be incinerated and moved gracefully over to his lover, his mate, his future bonded. :: _Show_ him what we are,:: he said, pulling Prowl into a heated, claiming kiss.

::Again and again, until we've _broken_ him, utterly and completely.:: Prowl's growl did surface this time as he kissed back just as fiercely. "Mine. You will always be mine."

"Always, even when we have returned to the Well, when our frames are no longer, I will find you," Jazz swore, pulling Prowl down on top of him. "Forever."

* * *

Prowl took a moment to skim the incoming credit reports that Engineer's street dealers uploaded at the end of the orn, detailing credits in and out, total inventory moved, and which cover business they would be "spending" the intake in before he went back to his ornly check of his cleaning system. 

It was a complex network that had been mostly set up before he'd even arrived, but problems with the last mech to hold this position was still giving him a processor ache to untangle. The glitch thought he could skim off the top without Engineer noticing. It had created some awkward loopholes and snares to smooth out that he was still keeping an optic on, mostly to make sure the street dealers were depositing everything properly. Prowl had also made some system-wide adjustments that helped everything run smoother and with a much lower risk assessment. He could have stolen a good deal and disappeared without getting caught, but it wasn't worth it to upset the stability they were settling into. 

Speaking of... 

He'd noticed the pedefalls coming up the hallway but dismissed them a moment too soon, and a moment after they stopped there was a very excited mech jumping up onto his back, wrapping legs around his waist and purring into his neck. Prowl caught Jazz's legs reflexively--the physical training he'd started with Drift was already paying off--and revved his engine in greeting. 

"All moved in, please tell me you can leave and come see," came Jazz's voice, laced with anticipation. 

Prowl chuckled softly and turned his helm for a kiss even as he pulled his chair back enough for Jazz to fit on his lap. "Be non-distracting for two breems and yes."

"Two breems!" Jazz protested dramatically, but huffed in agreement. And made no move to move out of Prowl's lap. "Can I be non-distracting from here?" 

"I invited you to sit, didn't I?" Prowl purred, his field reaching out to wrap his lover in a warm embrace as he moved the chair forward again and focused on his work for the few kliks it would take him. It didn't stop his arm from wrapping around his mate, who was only a metacycle away from being visibly marked as a carrier.

Jazz sat relatively still, nuzzling against Prowl's neck and enjoying his lover's field, but impatient with even a two breem wait, short as it was. He watched the nanokliks ticking down, and the moment the requested time had passed, he bit Prowl's neck, just hard enough to get himself noticed. 

"Impatient little creature," Prowl chastised him with a chuckle and kiss. His fingers moved without needing to look at the screen as he closed thing down for the night. "All right, you can show me our new residence."

His lapful of purring carrier had bounded to its pedes before he even finished speaking, grabbing his hands and pulling. "I hope you like the one I picked," Jazz said, grinning at him. Prowl had worked with Engineer to find rooms for lease in a district in her control, and then given Jazz the final choice out of his preferred buildings. They had all been modest, but compared to how they'd been living since they'd started running, any one of them was a palace. Nothing like the estates Jazz had spent most of his life in, but his lover was insistent that all he cared about was a berth and a locking door that they had control over. 

Prowl privately suspected that Jazz wasn't going to complain when he eventually got them well off enough to have a private residence with a hot oil pool on a balcony that overlooked a beautiful view, but that was going to take time. It was entirely probable that the twins would be in their final frames long before it happened.

Still, Prowl wasn't going to complain as Jazz lead them through the streets. It was safe here, the route between any of the choices and where Prowl worked all through areas where gang violence was largely absent. Jazz had argued to finish the pre-protoform construction time where he'd began dancing. They knew him there, they knew Prowl there, and they knew that Jazz was not available. He'd dance somewhere nicer after they separated and he had his dancing shape back. Reluctantly Prowl had agreed, so long as Jazz promised not to walk outside without either Prowl or one of Engineer's guards that they knew to escort him.

He idly crossed off choices as the turns Jazz made narrowed the options for where they could be heading until they final turn made Prowl's engines give a pleased purr when he realized that Jazz had chosen the building with a room that could be converted into a washrack, of sorts, if the tenants so chose. They would have to supply the equipment, but that wouldn't be a problem. Planet-wide investments were starting to pay off--not as quickly as he'd hoped, Cybertron's economy seemed to be in a slump everywhere--and while most of the returns were going straight to Mucit, Prowl kept enough for them to be comfortable and to have funds for small emergencies. 

Jazz transformed once they were outside the building and held his arm out, gesturing up at it, giving his love a huge grin as he sent a databurst with the apartment number and lock encryptions for both the outer door and their own.

Prowl purred as he took his lover's hand and pulled him close. He knew many of the mecha who lived here, either in passing or from their files. It was a safe place. Engineer valued him. Engineer understood than Prowl valued Jazz. Which meant Engineer protected Jazz as one of her own. It wasn't perfect, but they were safer than the average middle-income mecha in the city and that was good enough. Prowl wanted perfect, but he understood the give and take that reality required, and he was lucky to have a mate who in the meantime was blissfully content with just recharging next to him every night.

Prowl's lips turned up in a small, private smile as he followed Jazz through the halls to their apartment. More like he had a mate who was blissfully content with everything that happened in their berth and was usually knocked into recharge by the end of it. 

Jazz palmed open the door and led Prowl into the apartment, which opened up into a small room with a window on the far wall that was currently set to its most opaque setting. Jazz went straight to the center, where he'd adding a dancing pole, and grabbed it, spinning around once. "Ours," he said, as he stood back up, gesturing around.

Prowl, on pure instinct, took in everything, judging layout, quality, safety and needs, even though he was well aware of it all. He couldn't help his seneschal core coding. It was only a matter of nanokliks before he smiled and crossed the small distance to his love to embrace him. "I very much like this one," he purred, knowing Jazz wanted to hear it. Needed to hear it most likely. What little remained of Jazz's conformation coding still craved approval from the mech he had chosen as mate.

Jazz's engines gave a pleased hum as he pressed flush to Prowl. "I know it doesn't look like much right now," he murmured, "But we can add to it. Besides," he leaned back enough to flash Prowl a mischievous grin, "I fully expect to spend quite a lot of time looking at the ceiling."

"The ceiling, floor or wall," Prowl grinned and claimed a heated kiss, his fingers trailing down Jazz's side. He dropped his voice a full octave. "Why don't you give me a private preview of your next routine, if you've gotten everything set up."

"Someone's feeling patient," Jazz purred. "All right, but I'm going to do my best to make sure you regret asking, you tease," he said, stepping back, pushing off from Prowl with his fingertips and sauntering over to the sliding barrier that closed off the room they were standing in from the large berthroom. "Sit," Jazz commanded, pointing at the berth, which was covered with thick padding that had been an entire decaorn's salary.

That first touch of the padding and Prowl knew it was well worth it. Especially for how much they used their berth, and how roughly. "I'll never regret a reason to watch you move because you're enjoying it."

Jazz hummed and stretched, showing off his frame from the best angle he could. "Kind of like how you didn't regret taking me into a public no-'facing washracks that one time?" he asked, bending over backwards, grinning at his lover from the pose. "I certainly enjoyed that."

"It was very arousing," Prowl admitted with a rumble. "Even if I was hoping to enjoy the pool. You were far too hot. Especially your ultimatum."

"I do feel somewhat bad about that," Jazz admitted as he lowered his shoulders down to the ground and kept his hips pushed high, his spine perfectly straight. He wrapped his hands around one of his legs and pulled, lifting it up and pointing his pede towards the ceiling, carefully working the hip and ankle hydraulics for a moment before doing the same with the other leg. "The pool looked very nice." He lowered his leg, braced himself, and then leapt upright in a single, fluid motion, spinning on his heel and grabbing the pole, swinging around it again before hooking it with his knee and leaning back, optics fixed on his lover.

Those ice blue optics were fixed right back on him, hungry and admiring. "We'll have other opportunities now. She pays well. We'll be able to visit a nice washrack once a decaorn or so, though I'd like to time it to when you want to enjoy it rather than me."

"Blasphemy," Jazz declared, rocking his hips up against the pole, moving to a silent beat in his processor. "I'll just have to hardline you in the washracks. I bet we could get away with that. Or in the hot oil pool," he added, dipping his voice into a sultry purr. He finished a series of quick twirls that ended with his back pressed to the poll and one arm stretched up over his head, gripping tightly. He raised his knee up, then slid his free hand around under his leg, slowly pulling up until his ankle was nearly as high as his helm. "Imagine all that oil caressing your plating while I overload you in view of everyone as you try so hard to stay quiet and not give it all away."

Prowl shuddered, holding back a moan. "Or maybe I'll hunt down a nice one that doesn't have rules against interfacing," he suggested, his optics never leaving the lovely grace of his mate. It didn't matter what form Jazz wore, he would always be graceful. "Or you can. Tell me where you want me to take you, show off to everyone just how much you own me and I own you. I know you get off on being watched, on how jealous they all are that you're taken and how good you are. Find a place that's okay, and we'll do anything you want."

"You should know better than to make open-ended promises like that," Jazz said in a seductive trill. "But I'll see what I can find," he added, more seriously, as he lowered his leg and dipped into a crouch, knees spread wide, hands running up the insides of his thighs and tracing his fingers around first his valve and then his spike cover before sliding back up to his feet and spinning again, settling into a slow, careful dance. 

With no doubt that he had his lover's optics fixed firmly on every move he was making, Jazz shifted through the graceful positions and moves of the dance, designed in every way to be a careful seduction to the viewer, no matter who that viewer was. But if that viewer happened to be the dancer's mate...well. Jazz smirked to himself halfway through a turn and abruptly changed the routine to bring him facing the pole while he knelt, then ran a long, slow lick up the side as he reached down to his pelvis to grip his spike as it extended into his hand.

Prowl's vents caught audibly as a small sound escaped his vocalizer.

"You know I'll do anything for you," Prowl panted, his own equipment burning hot enough that the panels automatically slid open. He leaned back on his hands and spread his knees, knowing full well the visual he was offering in return. "How much I get off on watching you ride my spike. Just as good as pinning and pounding into you so hard you walk funny the next orn. Just as good as feeling that amazing spike deep inside me as I work each and every micron until you scream."

"Gonna pound you so hard," Jazz moaned in reply, stroking himself in time with his dip down along the pole, finding it incredibly difficult to stay where he was and finish the routine. "Frag, how do I get myself into these situations?" he asked with a strained laugh, entirely aware that his plan was backfiring just as much as it was working. 

"Because you're a very desirable mech with a high interface drive," Prowl moaned, his fingers playing along the rim of his valve, ignoring his hard spike for the time being. "You forget that you want me just as much as I want you."

Jazz chuckled. "So very true," he said, tossing Prowl an openly desiring look that shifted down to his valve. "Primus that looks delicious," he said, slowly licking his lips, and lifted his hand off his spike and wrapped his fingers around the pole. He pushed his aft up and back, sliding his valve cover away. "It is not fair that I can only do one thing with you at a time," he said. "Far too many choices."

"That is what energon and multiple rounds are for," Prowl chuckled, his tone deep with desire as his gaze moved from spike to valve. His fingers moved from his glistening valve to stroke his curvaceous and textured spike. "I can never decide which way I like you best. So glad you like using both."

"Both, slag," Jazz said, grinning. "I can think of more than a dozen ways to have you. How many surfaces do you think we can break in in an orn?"

Prowl laughed brightly. "All of them, if our energon supply is what I think it is."

"Excellent," Jazz said, and finished the dance with a final series of spins and dips, then froze in place, back against the pole, and lifted his hand, crooking a single finger. "Come here," he purred, and rested his other hand invitingly on the juncture between his hip and thigh, gesturing in. "I know where I want you to start."

"I like the idea," Prowl rumbled and stood, striding forward to kneel before his lover. He caught Jazz's right knee to nuzzle, kiss and lick his way up, taking his time and enjoying the heat and charge in his lover's field.

Jazz slid his fingers around Prowl's helm, smiling softly. "You are so lovely," he murmured, armor loosening just from the sight. "Primus blessed me when he made you mine."

"Just as he blessed me when he made you for me, no matter what it took to make that happen," Prowl purred deeply as he nuzzled and licked his way to Jazz's valve. His glossa teased the slick platelets there, swirling around the edge of the valve rim. "You're too perfect."

Jazz pulled his leg up, panting heavily as he offered his lover more room. "Oh right there," he moaned, pushing his hips out into the warm touch. "Nn... would do it all again just to have you," he said, and meant every word.

Prowl's glossa slid around the inside of his valve rim and he hummed, sending perfectly pitched vibrations into Jazz's valve, making the calipers cycle closed on empty air while his fingers worked Jazz's thighs. "Do you want to face the mirror?"

Jazz managed a grin through his shivers. "Sharp you licentious mech," he said, even as he lowered his leg and shifted, Prowl moving with him, so he was facing the mirror with a perfect view of his lover's kneeling form in front of him. "Leave it to you to suggest something like that, you know perfectly well that mirror is for practicing." 

"Of course it is," Prowl chuckled a rumble against Jazz's valve and circled his glossa around the inner rim again before pressing inward. "But it's got better uses and you know it."

"I may have-- _ah_ \--considered that when I bought it," Jazz said, torn between the view when he looked down and the one when he looked into the mirror, and settled on shifting between the two. His fingers curled around Prowl's helm as he relaxed into his lover's touches, caressing and stroking. "So, so lovely," he breathed, enraptured by the sight.

"You taste so good," Prowl purred, his glossa delving deeper, seeking out the nodes to lap against and rub. "Pure pleasure. That's what you are. Pure pleasure."

Jazz shivered and moaned softly. "I can't help it, never been able to help it around you, not since I was a mechling." His leg came up to rest against Prowl's shoulder and his other hand joined the first on Prowl's helm, gripping, trying not to pull him in too hard. "Pleasure from you is so sweet, so good, my perfect, beautiful, only..." He trailed off into another moan as he watched Prowl's hands stroking over his legs, the way his head was tilted up and back, the sight of his face between his thighs all serving to push his charge up faster than any other could have done with the same touches.

"Good, because you're mine," Prowl rumbled deeply, his glossa stroking and rubbing the nodes he could reach with relentless precision. "Never giving you up, my perfect whore. You're addictive in how much you want me."

Jazz whined as the words and the voice that spoke them went straight through him like pure, molten gold and he shook, unable to stop his fingers from tightening around his lover's helm and thrust his hips out, keeping Prowl pulled in. "Say it again," he gasped, _pleaded_. "Call me your whore, call me what I am."

"You are _mine_ ," Prowl snarled against his valve, lapping and rubbing without pause. "You are exactly what I want you to be. My whore. My slut. The carrier of _my_ creations. You are _mine_."

Jazz shook and shouted, overload rushing through him before Prowl had even finished speaking the final glyph, centering in around his valve, which rippled and gripped at the slick intruder that was creating such perfect pleasure even as shallow as the reach was. The reach hardly mattered, it was _Prowl_ touching him, worshiping his frame, and that would always be more than enough. 

"Love you!" Jazz sobbed as the second surge of charge cycled through him, needing that much to clear his systems out, frame shuddering from the static shocks that danced over and under his armor. He slumped when they dissipated, still keeping Prowl's helm held tightly between his legs, quivering. That and Prowl's strong, supportive grip on his legs were the only reason he was still upright.

"You are delightful, my lovely Strata," Prowl purred from where he was kneeling, relaxed but very aroused. "And this is only round one."

Jazz hummed in blissful satisfaction as he very carefully lowered his leg down and loosened his grip from Prowl's helm, carefully putting his weight fully back onto his pedes. He stroked his fingers down the side of Prowl's face and under his chin, tilting his head up, optics flickering with pleasure at the sight of his lubricant all over his lover's mouth. "Come here," he purred, lifting his hand, bringing Prowl upright with just the gentle brush of his fingers. As soon as he was standing, Jazz pulled him into a deep, heated kiss, eagerly tasting himself in Prowl's mouth while he pressed his hips forward, rubbing their spikes together. "So how thorough should we be about this breaking in business?" he asked, optics darkening in renewed arousal.

"Very," Prowl panted when the kiss finally ended, his hips rocking back into the delightful contact. "I want to use and taste every part of you tonight."

"You will," Jazz promised, reaching down between them to wrap his fingers around their spikes, twisting his wrist in a smooth stroke that made both of them groan. "Just as I will use you," he gasped, "Over and over and...mmm...over."

"Yesss," Prowl shivered and pressed into the touch and another kiss, impatient as his lover was to fully break in their new home. 


	17. Territorial Rights

Jazz finished his shift, waved farewell to the night manager and security mecha, and headed outside to wait for Prowl after snagging a cube of high grade from the bar. His mate was running a little late to walk him home--something he would not allow Jazz to do on his own under any circumstance--and he was running hotter than usual from the dancing, and not at all from arousal. His frame was preparing to start the protoform construction, and he wanted to be outside in the cool air, away from the enclosed space filled with so many dozens of revving engines.

He went around to the privacy of the side of the building to wait and leaned against the wall, looking up at the moons and holding his hand over his spark for a moment before sipping at the high grade. It wasn't enough to get him overcharged, but it helped to cover for the fact that he consumed more energon than a mech his size normally would at this stage in an average carry. It was unlikely that anyone would notice, but they weren't taking chances with bounty hunters crawling the planet looking for any sign of a twin carrier.

He ignored the sounds coming from around the corner where the buymecha waited for customers. The owners of the club pretended they weren't there, and the buymecha kept the customers who couldn't afford the pleasurebot dancers sated and calm. It was a beneficial, unspoken arrangement between all parties involved.

He _did_ pay attention when the noise turned into an unmistakably angry engine rev, a clatter, and a shout before a misshapen frame stumbled around the corner. The mech was growling and as he stepped forward into better light, Jazz thought he could see why. His frame was disgustingly dirty and his spike was still extended, credits in hand. Apparently no one had been willing to take this one, even for pay.

The mech's optics found Jazz and brightened, walking forward much faster, obviously thinking this was another chance. Jazz eyed him. He was strong enough to tear the mech apart if he needed to. He got close enough to teek, and the rank, unrestrained lust hit him strong and Jazz shifted uncomfortably, just watching, high grade forgotten as he came close enough to touch.

"Credits for a spike," the mech rattled.

Jazz frowned, revolted by the state of the frame, but found it hard to even shake his head, and when the mech stepped closer and he could feel the heat of the spike--

His valve cover opened immediately.

Jazz's optics spiraled wide. "I'm carrying," he managed to say, and _Primus_ , why was even that so difficult? "Please--maybe later--"

"Then suck," the mech rumbled, shoving the credits in his hand forward. "Ah don' care."

"No," Prowl's distinctive voice carried the authority he had not used in a long time. "No one touches him but me."

Prowl's voice cut through the intense focus Jazz had on the mech's spike and he forced a step towards his mate, slower than he would have really liked but at least he was further away. 

"He wan's it," the mech whined, gesturing at the open valve, having clearly heard it opening. "C'mon."

"I do not care," Prowl growled as he stepped forward, his armor flaring in warning and his field a riot of aggression and possessiveness that could have rivaled Drift. "He is mine. Do you understand?"

The mech hissed, but wasn't stupid enough to challenge that kind of display. "Fine, Ah got't," he muttered, and pushed past the pair to stalk away. 

Jazz shuddered, watching until he was gone from sight, then cringed when he felt the lingering aggression in his mate's field. "Didn't want him influencing the protoform," he said, and even _that_ sounded flimsy to his own audials.

With an effort Prowl dissipated his anger and put a gentle finger under Jazz's chin so their optics met. "I know. I know what you felt. Let's go home. I'm not angry with you."

 _Relief_ flooded through Jazz and he nodded, just wanting to be behind a locked door and in his mate's berth, frustrated and confused that what had kliks ago been a perfect, normal evening had turned so disquieting. "I wanted--" he started, then broke off and shook his head, because he wasn't sure he knew the rest of that sentence. Belatedly and as they took the first steps, he realized his valve cover was still open and closed it immediately.

The drive home was quiet and painfully introspective for Jazz as he tried to figure out why his reaction hadn't been to push the mech over and walk away, and why by _Primus_ his valve cover had opened. It wasn't a reflex _he_ had ingrained in him, had it?

It certainly wasn't any kind of installed program or some kind of dysfunctional glitch, because Prowl had been through his processors line by line, purging anything of the like when he'd removed every trace of the construct. 

But it _had_ to be a glitch, or a virus, or _something_ , Jazz thought, frustrated. He'd seen a mech he didn't want, not under any circumstances, not even to take the symbolic revenge he'd grown to crave. But his frame, and even, if he was willing to admit it, his processor had wanted to please that spike. 

That couldn't be reflex, it had to be a virus... didn't it? 

By the time they were home, Jazz had run a routine anti-virus sweep, found nothing, and was by then more than happy to just forget the incident as soon as they were behind their locked door. 

* * *

The next time Prowl was going to be late, Drift was waiting by the door, looking bored with his high grade until Jazz's shift was over. 

"He'll be later than he thought," Drift said, greeting Jazz with a familiar engine rumble. "Wanna go home or wait for him there?"

"I'll wait for him there," Jazz said, which was what he usually did on evenings like this. He enjoyed the drive home with his mate. 

Drift nodded and jerked his head towards the door, leading him out. 

When they arrived at the main intel hub where Prowl worked, there was a femme waiting in the sitting room that Jazz spent his time in, holding a flute of light, bubbling high grade that Jazz had only ever seen his creators and other nobles indulge in, but had never tried himself. 

"Drift, would you please ask for another sent down?" she asked, then turned her smile on Jazz. "Hello Strata, I'm Engineer." 

Jazz nodded once in greeting, smiling back easily as he chose a seat on the long, cushioned lounge next to her, reclining out. "It is nice to finally meet you," he said.

"I would have liked to sooner, but business comes first," she smiled warmly. "Your mate is quite valuable to me. I like to get to know those who are important to those I value."

The door opened and a black, glossy minibot stepped in carrying a flute identical to the one Engineer was holding. Jazz accepted it with a smile, waiting until the mech had left again before turning back to Engineer. "I'm just a dancer," he said, with a small shrug before taking a sip, and immediately gave a hum of delight at the bright, clear taste. 

"Oh, you undervalue yourself," she smiled warmly. "You have captured Sharp's spark, you carry his creation. A creation that I hope is as smart as he is. And from Drift's accounts, you are a fine dancer and good student of violence. I am sure you could be far more than a dancer if you wished to be."

"Perhaps," Jazz said, then laughed softly. "Though I really can't imagine what, I don't have a processor like Sharp's." He gave a small, thoughtful hum. "And he likes watching me, I would never deprive him of that." 

"Very few have a processor like Sharp," Engineer agreed easily. "How long have you known him?"

Jazz smiled and closed his optics, resting his head back. "Feels like my whole life," he said. "Like I wasn't even living until he was there."

She smiled softly at the love-struck answer. "You are very sweet together," she sipped her energon. "Are you enjoying being a carrier?"

"Mm, yes," Jazz said, his free hand coming up absentmindedly to linger over his spark and where he could feel the bright warmth of the twin sparks. They had felt so much healthier and vibrant since he and Prowl had found stability in Simfur. "Not excited to lose my frame, though. Have you ever carried?" 

"No, I've never liked anyone enough to bond," she shook her helm. "It's such a large step, and you seem so young."

"I got lucky," Jazz said, perfectly honest in that. "And truthfully, the newspark might not have been entirely planned," he chuckled. "But I couldn't stop myself from wanting his creation." 

"Do your creators approve of him?" she asked, a probing question, but still a normal one. "I would think he was quite the catch."

"They would if we were still on speaking terms," Jazz shrugged. "Business mecha, they never approved of my desire to be a performer. Actually," he said, "I'm sure they would rather have Sharp as a creation than me." 

A frown crossed Engineer's features. "That attitude causes so much harm in this world. What are your hopes for your creation? Beyond being healthy and strong."

Jazz paused to think about that for a moment, something he actually hadn't ever really considered before. So much of their focus had been on surviving and creating a safe, stable life for their sparklings, what came _after_ hadn't even occurred to him. "I suppose..." he said, trying to imagine what life was like for commoner sparklings, and having a bit of a hard time of it. "To be safe, and find love... and have a processor like Sharp's," he added with a laugh. "And maybe even enjoy dancing, though if not, I won't act like my creators did." 

Engineer smiled again, a mixture of understanding and sadness. "It wasn't easy for you, the metacycles before I hired Sharp. Are you going to dance again, when you get your frame back in shape?"

"Maybe," Jazz hummed, slowly sipping his high grade. "Not at the same place, if I do. Sharp doesn't like that one." 

"Yet he allows you to dance there," she cocked her helm. "Why?"

"I like it there," Jazz said simply. "We agreed until I start building the protoform, but now that it isn't necessary..." He shrugged. 

"It _is_ because you like it there," she summarized with a gentle hum. "When you came to Simfur you were running from something. What?"

Jazz lifted his head to look at her, frowning, unprepared for the shift in topic. There was no point in denying they had been running, any glitch with a set of simple circuits could figure that out. "I was in trouble," he finally said, very slowly. "I stole something. Sharp got me out." 

That raised an optic ridge. "That must have been an impressive theft. Leaving a city for almost getting caught. Who am I protecting you from?"

"You aren't," Jazz said coldly. "You are employing my mate and giving him the means to protect me, and your protection from the dangers in _this_ city is appreciated, but unrelated." 

"Then if anyone comes looking for you, you are on your own," she told him as a caution. "I am not keen on loosing Sharp's skills."

"If anyone comes looking for me, you _will_ lose his skills," Jazz said, and shrugged, relaxing back down, looking completely casual again. "His ultimate loyalty is to me. But I think you know that."

"Yes, I worked that out," she nodded and sipped her energon. "Do you like it here, now that you have enough credits to live?"

"It is likable as anywhere I have ever lived," Jazz said, swirling his flute and looking into it, then shot her a smirk. "Anywhere with a door and a berth meets my standards." 

Engineer laughed lightly. "Though I'm sure the nicer the berth the better it is," she winked. "Credits can buy wonderful things that make existence better. Your mate is well on his way to a promotion. I'm sure you'll enjoy the results. Perhaps an addition to your private washroom."

"Perhaps," Jazz agreed. "He enjoys spoiling me. I enjoy thanking him."

"What other ways do you enjoy being spoiled?" she asked, genuinely interested.

"Nice washracks, comfortable berth..." Jazz trailed off for a moment. "Anything he gives me, it doesn't matter what it is." 

"Better energon?" she suggested. "Have you tried flavored drinks?"

Jazz had, frequently, his entire life before running with Prowl, but Engineer didn't need to know that. "Just high grade at clubs, if that even counts," he said, and held up the flute. "This is delicious, whatever it is."

"It doesn't," she chuckled. "And that is hydro-fission energon. It's low energy but very high in hydrogen and oxygen molecules. A mech by the designation Mucit developed it. It still has only one supplier. The next time you come by, try out some of the additives with your energon," she motioned to the small table that always contained a few things to snack on and a small energon dispenser that only offered low-grade. Good quality, but low in energy. Perfect as a snack and to entertain.

"I will," Jazz said, pretending to be interested as he looked at the dispenser. He took another sip, tasting the mix more carefully, and smiling as he imagined Mucit and Wheeljack enjoying the same concoction. 

"Do you have a medic?" Engineer's tone shifted to a slightly more serious tone. "Most carries and separations go smoothly and don't really need one, but if something goes wrong, it can often kill both quickly."

"Not right now." And oh, did Jazz know about everything that could go wrong and how much higher the odds were with twins. "We'll find one if we need one." 

She gave a hum of acceptance, but also hinted that she intended to speak to Prowl about it. "Are you going to have the separation in your own berth, or go to a hospital?"

"We decided we want to be alone," Jazz said, and gave a rueful smile. "We've been the only ones there for each other for a long time, we want this to be just us."

"Soon to be just the three of you," she chuckled, the tone a mixture of understanding and softness at the romance of it. "Do you know his designation yet?"

"Mm, no. He hasn't started speaking to me yet," Jazz explained. He finished his energon and looked at the empty flute for a moment, tilting it in the light, then back up at Engineer. "Sharp had a lot to do this orn?"

"There was an attempt to hack in. It caused extra work for him," she shrugged. "How did you meet him?"

Jazz gave a long, drawn-out sigh as he resigned himself to the wait. "I ran away, sort of, but I had no idea what I was doing. Freshly upgraded mechling," he explained with a wry grin. "All that new coding gives you some pretty stupid ideas. I wasn't about to go back to my creators, thought I would join some street performers...but, you probably know what happens to new mechlings who have no idea what they're doing. I didn't. Started getting followed and I ran into the nearest shop I could find, and Sharp was there. He bought me energon and we talked and he convinced me to go back home, but I got his comm frequency and we kept meeting, and when I got kicked out, I moved in with him."

"What was he doing for credits back then?" she was curious, even if it was really just to keep Jazz talking about the past.

"Pit if I know," Jazz said with a shrug. "He didn't talk about it, I didn't ask. At the time, he was fueling me, and that was really all I cared about."

"You didn't share his berth at first?" an optic ridge rose in distinct surprise.

"Primus no," Jazz laughed. "Don't get me wrong, I wanted to, more than anything, but he thought he was too old for me, that I should be with age-mates. He was probably right," he added with a half-shrug. "So no matter what I did, he behaved perfectly polite and kept his distance, the slagger. Spent more than a few vorns doing everything I could think of to get him interested. And, well," Jazz's grin was huge, "Turns out he wanted me just as badly the entire time. And oh was it marvelous learning how to please him after that."

Though he didn't react to it, Jazz did note the slightly startled look Drift quickly hid.

"It sounds like he's been very good to you," Engineer hummed softly. "He never displayed jealousy towards your other lovers? Not even after you bonded?"

"No," Jazz shook his head. "Not that there have been many, and only for pay when we needed it." 

"Does it bother you that he's not as loyal?" Drift suddenly asked from the background.

Jazz tilted his head back. "Why should it?" he asked, quite honestly. "I belong to him, he does as he pleases." 

The fighter grunted with a nod, understanding that easily.

"Has he taken you to many cities before you got here?" Engineer worked her back to more useful intel.

Jazz frowned and made himself look uneasy. "A few. Crystal, Central... I would have liked to stay in Central." 

"What did you like about Central City?" Engineer asked gently. "Some things aren't exclusive to one city."

"The artisan quarter," Jazz said. "I'd never seen art like that before, everywhere you looked. Even the buildings looked like sculptures. And paintings that made your spark ache just to look at them." 

Engineer smiled warmly. "Every city has an artisan quarter. Perhaps you can talk you mate into taking you to some of the others. Iacon and Praxus are amazing, and the Helix Garden is something every mecha should witness at least once."

"I will ask him," Jazz said, giving another impatient glance at the door.

"He's likely to be a couple joors," Engineer said gently as she stood. "You can watch a vid if you want," she motioned to the screen normally covered by an abstract painting. "It gets most channels and VOD. I'm afraid I have to go and check in on a warehouse."

Jazz sighed and nodded, accepting the link-in to the building's entertainment system, ignored Drift and Engineer as they left together, and settled in for the wait.

* * *

Jazz was most of the way into a good recharge nap when the door sliding open brought him online fast, startling him upright with a disoriented lurch and a flare of alarm. 

"Relax, Strata," Prowl's voice was smooth and comforting, but it did little to hide how tired he was from the mech who knew him well.

Jazz settled with a slow x-vent, rising from the couch and shaking his head to clear his processor of the split moment of panic, having been suddenly and vividly back in Vortex's berth, waiting for the rotor to return. "Engineer said someone tried to hack in, are you all right?" he asked, touching their helms together and running his hands over his mate's frame. 

"I'm fine," Prowl promised, relaxing into the intimate contact and sliding his arms around Jazz's waist. "Just tired. Good energon and recharge with you will fix it."

" _Recharge_ with me?" Jazz repeated, field flickering with fond, loving amusement as he reached up to tap Prowl's helm. "Well now I know something is wrong. Do you need a virus scan?"

Prowl chuckled lightly. "You can scan me if it will make you feel better, but I know a much more enjoyable way to convince you I'm fine." His engine gave a deep rumble and he pulled Jazz close for a kiss. "Energon first. I'm in the mood for the warmed cyanide brew they serve at the cafe in our complex."

Jazz hummed happily against him. "Should be empty this time of night, too," he said, and linked their arms together as they started the walk out of the compound. "Engineer gave me something delicious, hydro-fission energon. We'll have to find some, I think she said Mucit was the supplier's designation."

Prowl froze, shock written openly on his features and frame for a moment before he managed to relax and continue walking to the road. "Generous of her. Did she ask anything unreasonable?"

Jazz frowned at him but didn't question. "No, if my entire life's story isn't unreasonable. She asked why we ran."

Prowl hummed in understanding and transformed for the drive home. ::She wants to know how much risk there is in trusting me to stay,:: he explained gently. ::How much did you tell her?::

Jazz pinged him with a file in response, a recording of the entire conversation, both auditory and visual. ::I told her the truth, though in not so many words,:: he said. ::As little as I could where possible.::

::Good,:: Prowl's harmonics were rich with approval. Navigating the late night traffic required little attention so he could give more to the file, though even after he finished with it they allowed a comfortable silence to settle until they reached the complex and transformed. "What would you like at the cafe?"

Jazz glanced at his levels. "Just high grade," he said, not in the mood for anything fancy, and much more interested in the fuel content.

"All right," Prowl leaned in to kiss him, his field rich with affection, privately showing what he was displaying publicly in the close contact. "Have you gotten the notice to begin taking mineral supplements yet?" Excitement flickered in his field and voice.

"Sharp, you will know the _instant_ that happens," Jazz purred, wrapping arms around Prowl's waist, the feel of his mate's excited anticipation for their creations making him fall just that much more in love with him, if it was even possible. 

"It should be any orn now," Prowl's anticipation was very real as they walked into the cafe, got their order and found a seat at a small table with a nice view of the street below. "I'm looking forward to seeing your shape when construction is underway and you have a little factory inside you."

"Mm, that makes one of us," Jazz said, teasing, before taking a deep swallow of the high grade, then glanced back at Prowl almost shyly. "As long as you still find me desirable." 

"How could I not, when you are building my heir?" Prowl purred. "I will desire you more than ever. Especially desire to fill you with my nanites to help build him."

Jazz shivered. " _That_ I am looking forward to," he said, looking out over the street and the few mecha who were visible. "Engineer suggested Iacon or Praxus, as places to visit. Maybe when he separates?" 

"If she is agreeable to the time off, or a short transfer," Prowl nodded. "They both have amazing artist quarters and sights."

Jazz just nodded in response, watching a lone vehicle form drive by. They both settled into a content silence, their fields twined as they finished their drinks. The walk to the lift and to their apartment was much the same. They both still enjoyed the peace of being able to be close without fear of retribution. 

Once inside the relative privacy of the space that was slowly starting to look more like a home, they settled next to each other on their berth, legs entwined and helms touching, silent as they set up the safety of the hardline. 

~Why were you so surprised to hear Mucit?~ Jazz asked, the question that had been on his mind the entire time. 

Prowl chuckled and shook his helm before drawing his love into a long kiss. ~It wasn't Mucit, it was the hydro-fission energon. A cube is worth as much as I earn in a vorn.~

Jazz's optics widened. ~Primus. So much for finding some. Leave it to those two.~

~I won't be procuring it for you anytime soon,~ Prowl kissed him, a hint of regret crossing the hardline along with something good. ~It does mean that she's very serious about trying to court you to ensure she keeps me. I must be more valuable to her than I estimated. That's a good thing.~

~Yes, but how are we going to hide _twins_ from her?~ Jazz asked. ~She was prying, and we can't just keep one in storage all the time. It's kind of hard to explain the extra one running around.~

Prowl x-vented quietly. ~We don't. A calculated risk that I'm worth more to her than what Vortex is offering to get you back. Publicly, we'll need to move around a bit or not be seen, but either we carried at the same time, or you carried them both very close together.~

Jazz grip on Prowl's arm tightened almost painfully. ~ _Prowl!_ ~ he protested. ~If she tells him--if she betrays you--or anyone else who works for her who finds out--he will come for them and _kill_ them!~

Even before Jazz finished he was on his back, pinned under his mate while that powerful mind tried to force calm through the hardline. ~If she betrays me, we run again. There is little danger. We will be ready. The alternative is to leave her employ before they separate and try to find employment in yet another city. We got lucky here.~

Jazz stared up at him, fighting against the panic that was trying to take over, finding comfort he couldn't explain in the pin. ~How will we know if he's coming?~ he finally asked, once he felt steadier. 

~The same way we'd know if he found out by other means. They try to capture us. We don't know now if he's coming.~ Prowl's summery was grim but factual.

Jazz shuddered at the truth of it, turning his face away. ~I'm glad Drift is teaching us.~

~Yes, it is well worth the credits and sore valves.~ Prowl relaxed, leaning forward to turn Jazz's face back up and kiss him. ~We will continue to learn new ways to fight. Our advantage will always be that no one will know our full capabilities. We will always have a surprise. Remember, worst case, shift to a jet alt and fly away.~

Jazz nodded. ~When do we tell her?~

~Not soon. I'm still working on determining if that is the most tactical solution,~ Prowl said gently with another kiss. ~Let me worry about who to tell, and when.~

Jazz sighed with relief that was tangible over the hardline. ~I love you,~ he said softly, wrapping his hand around the back of Prowl's neck, pulling the kiss deeper.

~I love you,~ Prowl willingly melted into the kiss, allowing arousal to build within himself. ~Is there anything you desire, beyond me, safety, a berth and energon?~

~Prowl,~ Jazz sighed, slumping back. ~Beyond your spark? Beyond living openly and freely with you, not having to use cover designations?~ His optics unfocused for a moment. ~I grew wanting to run a House, I suppose... that's still what I want, even if I have to alter my definition of House.~

~I will do what I can to arrange that. It may not be a noble House, but a merchant clan can be just as powerful in its own way,~ Prowl purred, excited by the prospect of building something he understood that Jazz _wanted_. ~Is there anything else you wish to discuss?~ he asked, seductive and hungry as his spike cover slid open and spike pressurized eagerly.

~No,~ Jazz whispered, his grip on his mate tight and the kiss he pulled him into a desperate kiss as he lifted his hips, bared and offering. ~Just need to feel you.~

~I love filling your needs, all of them,~ Prowl moaned as he pressed in, burying himself in a single smooth thrust as their mingled cries filled the otherwise silence of the room. 

* * *

Jazz felt like his protoform was squirming in his armor in the crowded heat of the club. Prowl was late, delayed by a wreck on the roads, and Jazz was starting to find it intolerably hot inside, even standing right next to the open door. It had been his last orn, his last performance. Why did Prowl have to be late?

He squirmed again, plating _itching_ , then huffed. He would go outside just for a few kliks, then go right back in as soon as his x-vents no longer felt sticky and warm. Maybe ten kliks at most. 

The first intake of the outside air was a relief and Jazz hummed with contentment as he walked towards the back of the building, thinking to go sit with the buymecha, a few of whom he knew by designation by now and was friendly enough with to feel safe to sit with. They weren't going to hurt him, and now that he wasn't competition they were more friendly too. He rounded the corner and was just three steps in when a rattle behind him made him stop and turn. He hadn't seen anyone there, but as he looked closer, there was movement in what he'd mistaken for a pile of junk. 

The pile uncurled and Jazz realized it was the mech that had tried to pay him right here, looking even more rusted than before if it was possible. 

"S you 'gain," the mech rumbled, reeking of overcharge. "Th'ne wouldna let me spike 'im. But y'wanted it. Want't now?" 

Jazz took a step back. "Not now," he said. 

The pile of scrap stood, his spike fully pressurized by the time he was on his pedes. "Ey thin' ya do." He stalked forward, closing the distance while Jazz stared at his spike.

In the next moment, his valve cover slid away, the sound unmistakable. Another step, but this one froze halfway through and left his legs apart. He hadn't given this as much thought as it needed after the last time, about why it had been so hard to tell the mech _no_ and walk away. Thought that the subject very obviously needed, and now Jazz was kicking himself. It had been too unsettling, and really, he never needed to say no, not in his life with Prowl. 

He'd never needed to say no. He'd never been _allowed_ to say no. 

Why should that change now? some small part of his processor wondered as the mech shuffled forward. He was longing for his original function in life? He missed knowing what his purpose in this world was? Well, here it was, make the best of it. He'd been created to be a warm frame that supported a valve, hadn't he? 

_Hadn't_ he?

"It's just--" Jazz tried to say, but the words came out stilted and lacking any kind of force. "I'm not--"

He felt a credit chip pressed into his hand as the filthy mech took the last step forward that pressed Jazz against the wall. With no other effort, he grabbed Jazz's hips and thrust his spike forward. It was an act his valve understood and responded to eagerly, even as his processors were trying to catch up with the fact that he was being spiked and his frame was ready to start using the transfluid it received for the creations he was building.

He could feel bits of rust scraping off onto his chassis and when an unpleasant, damp mouth was pressed against his he grimaced but didn't turn away. The mech groaned and rattled and humped unevenly against him and Jazz pressed his hands to the wall, fingers clawing back against it, and tried not to enjoy it. 

It was hard, it was _so hard_. There was a calm, cruel clarity that said this was his purpose, his function, and that he was just lucky to have found a mech he loved to perform for most of the time. That didn't give him the right to say no to the others who wanted what he was for. 

But that wasn't right, it _wasn't right!_ His processor, his frame, they were both acting against his will, betraying him into taking this. Prowl thought he was more than a frame to bury in, Prowl _loved_ him, he was worth _more_ than this!

 _Sharp!_ he tried to comm, but it wouldn't engage, and in the time it took him to even begin to wrestle with the traitorous coding that was keeping him here and _enjoying_ it, the mech had reached his overload. Hot, sludge-like transfluid filled his valve, sucked up by newly engaged equipment into a holding tank inside his abdominal cavity. In a horrifying moment Jazz comprehended that _this_ was the first contribution to the twins he carried.

Then the mech moved away, so fast and directly back that the removal of his spike left a flare of pain, quickly forgotten as Jazz realized what had happened.

"You should invest in a better memory," Prowl's voice was a deep growl, furious on a level that Jazz had never heard.

He stared at his mate, whose optics had gone nearly white with rage, and felt himself slumping to the ground as he watched the mech's pointless struggling against the heavier, stronger frame. He was so overcharged Jazz doubted he fully understood what had happened so quickly, but from the wide-opticked terror on his face, he could feel the enraged intent that had to be pummeling him from behind.

As Jazz watched, Prowl grabbed the offending spike and tore it off with one clean twist, only to have the object stuffed into the mech's mouth and down his intake just as the scream began. The vocalizer went next, purely to silence him, ripped straight from his throat and thrown to the ground, where Prowl threw the mech in the next moment and lunged on him, snarling and tearing at the chest with one hand and sinking the other into the shoulder joint with the other and ripping the arm away.

The rusting frame was still strong enough to thrash from the pain, its spine arching up away from the ground as the helm tossed in terrified protest, but it had nowhere near the strength to dislodge the enraged Praxian who was working to tear off the other arm now. The joint separated with a sharp crack and Prowl grabbed the neck as soon as the limb had been thrown aside, crushing the intake and ripping easily through the crumbling chest plating, tearing the armor right off. 

Energon spilled out into a pool beneath them as the attack continued, the horrified revving of the mech's engines and the sound of cables snapping and metal screeching in protest as the rest of the frame was savaged nowhere near as loud as the growling coming from Prowl's engines and vocalizer. 

It lasted less than two kliks, and by the end, the mech couldn't be called that anymore. There was sparklight, indicated some lingering amount of life, but the pile of energon-soaked parts in the middle of the alley was not going to survive. There was a frustrated snarl as Prowl looked for something else to tear, rip, crush, _destroy_ , and when he found it all already ruined, his head snapped up and the white optics pinned Jazz.

In the time it took Jazz to process that he was the next target of that rage, he watched Prowl hard reboot. Optics went black. Frame sagged. The entire control network for the mech turned off for a fraction of a nanoklik to reset.

Prowl's optics came back on their normal shade of ice blue and he straightened, a bewildered look on his face.

"Sharp..." Jazz whispered, staring at him, still not daring to move. His mate looked at him, at himself, at the flickering light at his pedes.

"What happened?" Prowl asked even as his processor clicked on the fact that the mech beneath him would not survive. He grabbed the biggest pieces and made quick work of checking for anything valuable while he arranged the parts to be lost in the junk and shadow.

"You don't...?" Jazz said, pushing himself more upright, watching his lover sifting through the pieces of frame with detached fascination. "You pulled him off me," he said, grimacing as he felt transfluid running down the inside of his leg from the burst that had come as Prowl had yanked the mech away, reaching down to wipe at it. "Sharp," he said again, voice cracking with a sharp burst of static as he stared at the smear on his fingertips. "I'm getting mineral supplement notices."

"The reboot locked the memory away," Prowl explained before he caught up with the rest of what Jazz said. That forced him to freeze and assess the situation again. Coding that he'd spent countless joors writing and integrating bloomed over his awareness, trying to consume him. His vents and engine stuttered before he forced himself to finish the task at hand. Only when his kill was reasonably well hidden did he turn on his mate, pulling Jazz upright against the wall and pinning him there with a hot frame and eager spike, his field a riot with a single demand.

"Mine," Prowl hissed, his spike already hard and extended between them as he caught one of Jazz's knees to angle him better for the thrust in.

Jazz gave a short, startled groan at how quickly he was filled, hands sliding under Prowl's arms and coming up to grip his shoulders from behind, pressing his face against his mate's neck and holding him tightly. "Yours," he managed. "I'm sorry--Sharp--I'm so, I'm--" He broke off with a sharp cry as Prowl's pelvis slammed into his.

" _Mine_ ," Prowl hissed again, demanding and claiming as much as his hard paced thrusting did. "Don't want sorry. Want _you_."

Jazz moaned and nodded, hiking his leg up as high as he could and just holding on, rocking under the drives that were scraping his back against the wall, pain that turned into a harsh, grounding distraction from everything else. It hurt so much less to just cling to his mate and not think, letting his frame and vocalizer react automatically as time rushed forward and he lost track of how many times Prowl had overloaded into him.

* * *

Jazz's optics flickered on at the end of a groggy-feeling reboot that only initiated because of the fuel and supplement alerts. He was in his own berth--he had hazy, partial memories of making it back here the previous night and being thrown onto his back and pinned there--and he was registering a very sore valve, still full of thick, pressurized spike, and constriction from Prowl's arms wrapped tightly around him, the Praxian's engines still rumbling even in recharge. 

"Sharp," Jazz said, very quietly, not daring to move. It was enough to rouse his mate, though it still took Prowl a klik to light his optics.

"Hungry?" Prowl's question was groggy, his systems sluggish and wanting energon themselves. But he was fully himself and focused on Jazz's needs.

"Yes," Jazz said, relieved to hear the sanity in his mate's voice.

A nuzzle and affection greeted the statement as Prowl gently untangled himself from his mate and kissed him softly before getting up to fetch two cubes of cheap but potent high grade they used for rapid energy recovery. A packet of supplement wafers also came with it.

"Did I hurt you?" Prowl asked solicitously as he offered the wafer packet and a cube.

"No," Jazz said, before pushing himself up enough to down the cube in a single tip and accepting the wafers. He slipped the first into his mouth, absently noting the unfamiliar sensation of the minerals being absorbed into his systems, his primary attention still focused on Prowl. 

Prowl's cube went down just as fast and he dissipated it before snuggling up against Jazz, pulling him close, possessive in a way that still wasn't natural but was no longer threatening. "Energy levels?"

"Ninety-seven," Jazz answered, unresisting and wrapping his arms around his mate. "You're supposed to be at work?" he asked.

"I won't be going in today," Prowl said with finality as he claimed a kiss. "I have more important things to do right now."

Jazz nodded as he spread his legs open for his mate. Later, they would talk. Later he would _think_. Right now he wanted to do nothing more than lose himself to the sire of his creations and take as much of his spill as he could physically hold.

"Love you," Prowl moaned into another kiss as he covered his mate and sank into that welcoming valve. "Want you. Love you. Our creations are _ours_." Prowl's litany continued between kisses until he lost himself in the pleasure and the drive to imprint as much of himself on the protoforms now being constructed as he was physically able.

* * *

It was another orn and a half before Prowl came out of his code-induced rutting, his systems demanding energon that he gave them and additives he wasn't expecting to need. It did clear his processors, though, as his systems refused to allow the sire code to continue having him produce the nanite rich transfluid until he was ready to. It was odd, knowing how much he'd pumped out and so little mess on the berth. Plenty of lubricant, but nothing from him.

He knelt on the berth and nudged Jazz to boot up, energon and wafers in hand. It was improbable in the extreme that Jazz didn't need them.

Jazz gave a groan of protest as his vocalizer came online, his entire frame sore in ways he'd never experienced before. His valve he was familiar with, but the aching from joints that had been jarred for nearly two straight orns, all told, even with the brief recharge breaks, was new. 

He accepted the energon and supplements, ingested both, and then waited for Prowl to push him to the berth. When the movement didn't come, his optics flickered in faint surprise as he looked at his mate, questioning. 

"I'm too low on the minerals to make the nanites quickly," Prowl explained with a gentle, light kiss. "So I'm mostly myself for a while, and I now know enough to control the length and timing of these encounters. You must be sore, given what my spike feels like."

Jazz shifted, getting a feel for what his valve felt like with movement, and winced a little. "Sore, but nothing is ripped or torn and the entire piece is intact so I'm not going to complain," he said as he sat the rest of the way up. "Are you going back to work?" 

"I need to," Prowl shifted uneasily. "I don't want to leave you alone."

"Do you trust Drift to watch me?" Jazz asked, biting down on the response that he could take care of himself, because clearly, that was actually in question right now.

A deep growl came from Prowl's engine before he forced himself to calm down. "No. I don't trust him to keep his spike where it belongs. He's too used to fragging you." Prowl let out a gust of air and rested his forehelm against Jazz's. He definitely didn't trust the bigger mech. And truth be told, right now, he didn't trust his mate to keep his legs closed if Drift expressed interest, but he wasn't telling Jazz that part right now. "I want you where I can see you, at least for a few orns."

Jazz nuzzled back. "My manager knew I was done as soon as I started constructing, it's not like I have anywhere else to be. I'll come with you." He paused and glanced down at himself. "After I clean." 

"After we both clean up," Prowl chuckled. "A rinse here and a proper stop in the washrack. We'll pick up replacement energon and the supplements I need after work. We can get a pain blocker on the way in, if you want. You shouldn't pay for my lack of control."

"No," Jazz said, standing and stretching, getting a better feel of his frame. "I like this."

"All right," Prowl kissed him softly. "You will let me know if it begins to bother you."

"I will," Jazz promised.

* * *

Jazz was clean, refueled, and _frustrated_. Prowl had given him the access codes to the reading sources kept for those who worked here that covered a huge variety of topics and shown him where to access the logic puzzles some of the operatives trained on, but Jazz wasn't interested in those. Maybe later, but right now, he was on his back on a lounge that had been set up in the back of his mate's office, staring at the ceiling as he replayed the memory of the rusted mech over and over. 

He'd given it very little thought after the first encounter and set it aside as an unsettling anomaly, but it was clearly more than that. There had been no desire there, _none_ , he knew that much, and there should have been nothing keeping him from telling the mech to frag off and ignoring him. Jazz had the stronger frame, and was getting better at hand-to-hand combat and self-defense. It wasn't like the gang rape, when there had been little point in resisting. 

Though, come to think of it, he hadn't made those mecha work very hard to get his valve, either. 

So, what--he saw a spike and spread his legs? The thought was enough to make him scoff the first time he had it, but it was one he kept coming back to. Three times since running he'd been faced with an unwanted 'face, and all of them he'd opened. That last time, without any kind of fight, had felt--

Jazz quickly cut that line of thought iff and focused inward. He wasn't so desperate to 'face that he would take anything, he knew that. But the moment of calm clarity, of absolute rightness that he'd felt...

With a sigh, Jazz brought up his coding, searching for the scripts that been active during the event. He couldn't understand code the way Prowl could, but that wasn't going to stop him from scouring through it. 

The clearest thought he could remember while having the glitch's spike in him had been that that was his purpose and function and he should be _glad_ to be fulfilling it, but that wasn't _right_. His function had been to bond to a first creation and carry, run a House, but nothing in that should have forced him to accept rape. Subordinate bondeds were _not_ pleasure slaves for their mates.

Vortex had forced him to act as one, though. Jazz couldn't remember a single time when he'd felt safe saying no to the rotor, it had literally been a matter of survival, and that...

That realization got him where he needed to be, and as soon as he saw the broken line of code and what it had been warped into, he snarled, and came up out of his processors cursing loudly. 

"That fragging, glitch-addled _Pit spawn!_ " he shouted, rising smoothly to his feet, looking for something, _anything_ that he could tear apart if he couldn't have Vortex, hardly seeing the very bad start that his mate gave before spinning.

"Whoa!" Prowl was on his pedes, facing his mate with bright optics and combat-tightened armor. "Strata, calm down." He caught Jazz by the shoulders to still him, then shifted one hand down to a dataport by Jazz's collar armor.

Jazz snarled again, the sound directed not at Prowl but at the frustration of having _nothing_ to grab hold of and wreck, fingers flexing around air. After a moment, the port spiraled open and it took everything he had to hold still enough for Prowl to plug in. 

~My coding is fragging _warped!_ ~ Jazz yelled as soon as he felt Prowl's systems peripheral with his own. ~Saying no wasn't even an option--saying no could get one of us _killed_ and it fragging _wrecked my coding!_ That _glitch_ \--that sick--that twisted miswired _pile of defected parts!_ I will kill him, _I will KILL him!_ ~

Prowl rocked slightly on his heel plates at the ferocity of his mate's rage even as part of him delighted that Jazz had that kind of fire in him. He didn't even try to interrupt the free-flow ranting until it seemed to have simmered down, listening quietly until Jazz apparently ran out of ideas for curses. ~So survival coding edited your options. You can't refuse to interface.~

Jazz hissed. ~Apparently. I swear if I see _any_ influence from that 'face in the twins I'm going to melt his rotors off one by one and _pour them down his intake!_ ~

~You, we, will do far worse than that when we are finally in a position to destroy him,~ Prowl purred darkly, drawing his love close and trying to help bleed off the excess energy. ~Do you want me to help you change the coding so you can choose freely?~

~ _Yes!_ ~ was the overwhelmingly loud response, followed by a quieter growl. ~Fragging going to peel his spike away wire by wire, file down all those ridges, melt whatever is left, and then have a dozen more to fix back on and destroy after that.~

~We will indulge in everything when he is ours,~ Prowl promised. ~The editing will take time, focus and energy. I will need to be rested and caught up here.~ He brushed a thumb over Jazz's cheek. ~No one will get close enough to you to try until then.~

Jazz flexed his fingers once more, hissed, then let the rest of the tension drain out of his frame. He nodded, then looked past Prowl at the chair that had actually toppled as he had leapt up. ~Ah...I think I interrupted you,~ he said, a small laugh rippling through him. 

~You scared me,~ Prowl leaned in for a tender kiss. ~But I am glad to know that what happened was defective code.~

Jazz grabbed him and deepened the kiss with a very distracting swirl of his glossa and press of his frame. ~So am I. Go back to work. Are there games where I can blow things up?~

Prowl rumbled with desire, his honest response to attention from his mate, but managed to pull himself back when his vents opened up a notch. ~Yes.~ A short string of titles was sent with the glyph. Reluctantly he unplugged and stepped back to right his chair and go back to work.

Jazz smirked to himself as he started browsing the options. Today was not the right time to actively distract his mate from work. The missed orns had left Prowl with a huge amount to catch up on, and Jazz knew it was important that he finish as quickly as he could. 

But if that sire coding kept him here for too long, he was definitely going to see what he could do about tempting his lover away from that desk.


	18. Being a Carrier

Seven orns.

Jazz groaned in a combination of relief and frustration at finally being _out_ again. Prowl had done all he could to keep him entertained, but games and reading did not cut it after so long. He wasn't made to sit in an office like Prowl was, he wanted to be out and _doing_ something. At least now with his coding un-fragged, a task that had been harder than either of them expected, he wasn't going to risk having the twins influenced by any other mecha who expressed interest just by being outside. A visible carrier tended to attract attention.

He was sticking to safe parts of the city, though, wandering through a market district that the small population of nobles in the city favored. Many of them sent their servants here for errands, and those were the mecha Jazz came for.

"Strata! Haven't seen you in a while!" A familiar merchant waved to him. "You're finally showing, too."

"I bet Sharp didn't let you out of the berth," a deep red minibot with a dancer's frame grinned as soon as he spotted the carrier. "You're in the fun stage."

Jazz waved back as he walked up, grinning. "I've never been so sore in my life," he confessed, glancing over the merchant's counter. "Please tell me you still have some of those copper-filled things left."

"Always," Confection smiled warmly. "How many would you like?"

"About a hundred," Jazz said, rolling his optics, but handed him a credit stick with enough on it for three. "Please tell me something interesting is happening somewhere, I am starved for gossip."

"Always," Whisper Wind laughed playfully. "Sweetness, he works in the kitchen at the estate I do, just found out he's expecting twins. I thought it might be normal, he's Praxian and all, but they were just as shocked as everyone else."

"Twins everywhere," Jazz said as he held his hand out for the silver spherical treats from Confection. "I'd never heard of any twin carriers before and that's two in as many metacycles," he said before putting one in his mouth and humming happily at the taste. "Do Praxians have a lot of twins or something?"

"I thought they did because they trine like Seekers do," Whisper Wind shrugged. "Turns out they don't. That noble set is probably lucky their carrier hasn't been found." He shuddered. "I knew someone who went to work for Lord Vortex. He said it's better to live in the gutters."

Jazz sighed. "But just think what that servant could be doing to him," he said quietly, then shook his head sharply. "But that's too depressing for me. Sweetness should go to Iacon," he told Whisper Wind, perking back up. "They'll pay for all the carrying costs just to study it."

"Praxus will too, and they're already negotiating to go," Whisper Wind nodded. "I'll miss them, but it's too big an opportunity for them to pass up."

Jazz hummed in agreement, waved in thanks to Confection, and started walking along with Whisper Wind. "Free supplements would be worth it alone," he said. "I'm so glad Sharp found good work, I wouldn't have been able to afford it just dancing."

"I'm sure you'd manage it somehow," Whisper Wind said confidently as they paused at a high grade merchant for Whisper Wind to place an order for the House. "It's a lot safer when you can get everything your systems are asking for."

Jazz nodded, then grinned. "Would you believe," he said when Whisper Wind stepped away. "Sharp made me set my alerts at 90 percent?"

"First time sire, first time carrier? Oh yeah, I believe it." He snickered. "You're lucky he lets you out of his sight at all."

Jazz chuckled. "I can be persuasive," he said. "Though he might use different adjectives. Speaking of, hang on."

"Checking in?" Whisper Wind asked with a knowing grin. 

Jazz just smiled and nodded as he commed Prowl. ::I'm still alive and I'm not being stalked by anyone,:: he sent. 

::Good. Thank you.:: Prowl managed a respectful reply. ::I am actually getting work done.::

::I can come change that if you'd like,:: Jazz purred.

::Save your energy for when I get home with you,:: Prowl rumbled deeply. ::I took my supplements this morning. I'll be well-primed by the time I'm done here.::

::Good, because I want that spike between my legs,:: Jazz said before disconnecting the link, then saw the look that Whisper Wind was giving him and realized the kind of expression he had on his face. "Well?" he laughed. "Like you said, this is the fun part." 

"I got the feeling that you've always enjoyed the fun part, carrying or not," Whisper Wind grinned back. "You need to pick up anything, or just here to escape the berth for a bit?"

"Who wouldn't enjoy the fun part?" Jazz asked, glancing idly at the shops they were passing by, looking for anything of interest in the windows. "And mostly I just needed to get out and move and actually see some mecha." 

Whisper Wind nodded understandingly and they walked in companionable silence for a little ways. 

"Do you think," Jazz said suddenly, "That that twin carrier, the botnapped one, do you think that's what actually happened?"

"From all I know of noble Houses and that oligarch in particular, no," Whisper Wind shook his helm. "If it was any mech other than a seneschal, I'd have more doubts, but seneschals are hardwired for loyalty. Literally hardwired for it. Unless that seneschal was severely glitched to the level any noble would have put him down he'd have been physically incapable of taking his noble anywhere the noble didn't want to go."

Jazz gave a soft, thoughtful hum. "I like that thought much better," he finally said. "I hate imagining the carrier being alone and afraid somewhere." He held his hand up to his abdomen. "I don't think I could stand it."

"You'd be surprised the strength you can find in creator coding," Whisper Wind smiled gently and patted his arm. "Whatever part of the story we aren't hearing, I know there's a lot of it. A seneschal couldn't do that. He'd short himself out before he knowingly distressed his noble. But Vortex," he shuddered. "There's not much that mech won't do, and enjoy. I heard from first hand accounts. Stuff that even the Senate won't accept."

"And he's too rich to do anything about it," Jazz sighed. "I hope you're right."

"I hope they're happy, wherever they are, and the sparklings are raised by loving creators," Whisper Wind agreed before they silently agreed to switch to safer topics.

* * *

Prowl stalked through a weapons warehouse that even a metacycle ago he'd have had no use for. Right now, he was itching for the kind of controlled violence that a powerful riffle and targets that didn't fight back had to offer. He'd stopped questioning the influence of the military protocols he'd downloaded and their odd effects when mixed with his already specialized and somewhat damaged programming. It wasn't worth the processor ache as long as it didn't cause a problem.

Right now, it was just giving him a new option for tension relief.

"Hey!" a loud voice rumbled over when he got close to the crates that were waiting to be inventoried before shipping, and Prowl looked up to see one of the laborers stalking towards him. "Th'frag d'you think you're doin' in here? Get back upstairs before you blow somethin' up!"

"I have a right to test fire whatever I want," Prowl growled back at the worker, instinctively IDing him. No one important, but a mech able to challenge an unknown presence, which Prowl clearly was to him.

"That's Sharp, the new lieutenant. He's cleared," the warehouse boss called out from a catwalk.

Prowl glanced up at him and nodded.

The mech eyed him up and down, decided that Prowl wasn't big enough to be a threat anyway, grunted, and stalked back off. 

"The focus blasters are pretty good for that kind of mood," Synchron commented from the catwalk . He gestured towards a pile of crates that weren't going in the next shipment. "They use a crystal to focus the energy, so the damage is smaller in area but more severe where it actually hits."

"Thanks," Prowl nodded and moved towards the crates. He hefted one, then put it back. Too heavy for his tastes. He liked to move. The next caliber down felt good in his hands and he grabbed a couple extra power cells for it before heading to the small range in back. It wasn't much, but it was good enough for customers to use to check out the quality of prospective purchases. Just because they were black market didn't mean that the buyers weren't expecting quality for their credits.

Right now Prowl just wanted to find out if this new urge on how to release tension was worth investing energy into. He stepped up to the static line, nothing more than a target sheet pinned to the back wall, registered the weapon he was using so the system knew how much power was headed downrange and brought the light riffle to his shoulder. Targeting was new to him but it used all the same vectoring protocols he was used to for moving about.

The first shot was off, near the edge of the target. The second halved the distance to the center. The third halved it again.

The forth was a perfect hole in the center.

The next three shots went through that hole and Prowl nodded to himself, comfortable that he knew how to use this weapon, and anything else like it.

The shot that followed right after his came from behind and from a larger weapon, taking out the entire center of the target. Prowl hit the deck and spun around to level his weapon to average spark height before he'd even processed the hit.

Drift's pleased rumble was more of a chuckle, unconcerned with having a weapon aimed at him. "Is there anything you don't pick up quickly?" 

Prowl relaxed himself by force, getting to his pedes with a scowl. "Do you have a death wish?"

"Didn't know I did," Drift said, still grinning. "Didn't think you were that easy to startle." 

"I was focusing too much," Prowl muttered, once more wishing for a form with wings. He missed having the extra input about his environment. "Why are you here?"

"Bored," Drift shrugged, and lifted his heavy blaster back up to his shoulder, taking another shot. "Don't have your mate around to entertain me anymore in my downtime." 

Prowl grunted. "You have no idea how lucky you are. Sire coding's a pain between the hyper possessiveness and wanting to spike him every single moment. It's fun and all, but _no_ variety."

Drift frowned and set the weapon down, leaning on it in a way that Prowl was sure it wasn't meant for. "Variety like what?"

Prowl shrugged. "Like oral, foreplay, games. Primus help me if I'm in the mood for a spike," he rolled his optics. "Spark play isn't even that welcome." He huffed. "I _like_ variety. Sire coding doesn't. Killed my endurance too."

Drift chuckled. "Yeah, but endless rounds of fragging and not letting anyone else touch him? Sounds like fun to me. I'd say sign me up if it didn't mean ending up with a sparkling in the end." 

"Unplanned or not, I'm looking forward to it," Prowl smiled a bit. "Someone to raise and train as I see fit. It'll know what I teach them, think the way I want it to. It'll be less than a century before it's useful."

Drift shifted his weight a little. "I guess that's one way to look at it," he said. "So do you, you know, think you'll keep Strata around once you have it?"

Prowl shook his helm with a chuckle. "I'll keep him as long as I'm enjoying him. I don't see that ending anytime soon. He's good in the berth and willing to do anything for me. Nothing not to like there."

Drift's engines rumbled in a deep laugh. "True enough, you've got it pretty good. Pretty surprised you let him out of your office. We were taking bets on how long he'd be in there."

A deep groan answered that. "Blame my work ethic. You have no idea how distracting that mech can be when he's bored, and he gets bored _easy_ in a small space. It's his only real detracting trait. He's active. Hoping that mellows with age, and a sparkling or two to keep track of and control."

"I'm sure you can train it out of him," Drift assured him. "Especially as he gets older. Young mecha can be high strung."

"I know," Prowl agreed. "I should get back to work." He hefted the medium riffle and walked out, sure Drift would be blasting targets for a couple joors. The mech _liked_ violence entirely too much. At least he was useful.

* * *

It was a relief to finally be home for the orn and Prowl was eager to push Jazz down onto the berth. As much as he liked to complain about the monotony of it and missed their normal interfacing habits, there was something truly marvelous about knowing they were strengthening and creating their twins together. 

But when he opened the door and stepped in, all thoughts of interfacing vanished. The lights were off, the window was darkened. ::Strata!:: he called, starting to crouch into a defensive position. 

"It's all right," came the purr and Prowl frowned, focusing in on it. He commanded the lights on, but they would only rise to a quarter intensity. It was enough to see, though, and he saw Jazz near the top of his dancing pole, hanging on with one hand, perched against it.

"I see I'm not the only one who got bored," Prowl purred deeply, his engine rumbling in anticipation. Oh yes, he had missed this playfulness.

"I'm tired of looking at the ceiling," Jazz said, staying where he was, pointing at their berth with the hand he wasn't using to keep himself up. "On your back, my pet." 

Prowl shivered at the tone and words. It had been entirely too long. "Yes, my Lord," he rumbled and moved swiftly to comply. His frame stretched out, relaxed and on display for his master.

Jazz didn't move anything but his head as he watched Prowl settle, a pleased smirk on his lips, before dropping down and landing in an easy crouch. The movement lacked his normal flawless grace, hampered by the carrying frame, but the rise to his pedes was smooth as he walked over, holding something in his hand. He walked around near Prowl's head and held it out for him to clearly see: a set of handcuffs. 

"It would please me to use these," he said softly, and waited. He wouldn't put them on unless Prowl moved his hands out for them. If he didn't, Jazz would simply subspace them and continue without, but the choice to be bound was Prowl's. He could feel the tension, there were a lot of bad memories and danger in the concept, but there was also so much appeal from vorns before. He'd learned that almost by accident just how much Prowl enjoyed light bondage. But that had been before Vortex, too. Before everything changed.

With a gradual movement that held more certainty by the time they settled, Prowl lifted his arms over his helm and held his wrists together.

Jazz wordlessly fixed the cuffs around his lover's offered wrists, clicking them into place and pressing down on Prowl's arm for a moment, indicating his hands were to stay over his head, but there would be no physical tie keeping him there. That done, he slipped up onto the bed and shifted to lay out on top of him, pressing a deep kiss against his mouth. "So perfectly obedient for me," he murmured, and put his fingers against Prowl's chest, pushing himself up. "My beautiful pet." 

"To please my Lord is my function," Prowl moaned softly, his optics locked on Jazz's frame, but far more focused on the spark and processors it contained than the details.

Jazz smiled and hummed, settling himself back into a straddle over Prowl's hips, keeping himself lifted just enough that there was no contact to his lover's spike panel. "It is," he purred. "But I hear you have everyone fooled into thinking I am _your_ berth warmer, when we both know it's the other way around, don't we?"

"We do, my Lord," Prowl shivered, moaning softly. "They believe what they want. I just don't correct them. I am yours."

"You are," Jazz whispered, leaning forward, holding himself up on his hands, brushing their lips together but not deeply enough for a real kiss. His hips lowered, scraped lightly over Prowl's. "You will give me your spike, and I will ride you until I have everything you have to offer for our creation, until you're so used and spent you can hardly move."

Prowl could only moan. His cover snapped open and his spike jutted out, pressurizing as fast as it could, sliding up along Jazz's bared valve as it extended. Around them Prowl's field snapped and roared with his _want_ , desire born of both the mech above him and the thought of contributing to his creations. "Please, my Lord. Use me. I exist to serve."

Jazz rubbed along the length of his mate's spike, platelets tickling and teasing the textured surface. "I'll use you until you're sore," he promised, voice deepening with desire he couldn't hide. "Beg for it," he purred. "Beg for my valve, beg to spill your release into me." 

A whine escaped Prow as his hips rolled up, rubbing his spike along Jazz's valve array. "Please, my Lord. Use me, permit me to contribute to your heir, allow me to pleasure you and fill you as you desire. Use me until I have nothing left to give."

Jazz couldn't hide the shiver that went through him as he basked in the rich tenor of his mate's voice, angling his hips up and lifting himself far enough to align with the extended spike. He sank down in a single movement, groaning in unison with his lover as he brought their arrays together, sitting upright and then leaning back, holding himself up on his arms. "My pet," he moaned, helm tossing back in his bliss as he started to move. " _Mine_ , all mine." 

"All yours," Prowl swore, meaning it with all his spark. His hips pushed up, relishing the sensation of being inside his mate but not the driving force. "I desire no other. All I am is for you."

Jazz's frame shook with pleasure with each downward slide as he took Prowl in. "So good," he gasped, rocking his hips. One hand lifted up to his throat, gripping for a moment, before it ran down his front and stopped over his spike cover, flexing his fingers against it before it slid away and his spike pressurized into his palm. He squeezed, turned his wrist, and stroked in time with the rhythm he moved with against his lover, setting a hard, fast pace that would satisfy both their creator coding. "You please me so well," he moaned, valve shivering blissfully around Prowl's spike.

"Good," Prowl moaned, his entire awareness focused on timing the roll of his hips to suit the pace and angles that his mate had selected. "Want to please you. Want to be desirable. Want you to keep me, want me, use me," he panted with the rising pleasure. He had almost no endurance now, protocols dictated that this act had a purpose beyond pleasure and intimacy. His overload strengthen his creations, so his frame drove him to that overload as quickly as it could. "You're so good to me, forgiving me my weakness."

"Not weakness," Jazz managed as he rode back against him. "Strength, for me, our creation, filling my frame, giving me everything--" He broke off with a sharp gasp as his fingers tightened around his own spike. "Give me your overload and I'll let you move your arms," he promised, shivering. "I'll let you touch me." 

Prowl keened and bucked up, what little self-control he had stripped from him at the words, the praise, permission and promise they held. The first burst of transfluid rushed against the pleasure nodes at the top of Jazz's valve, then through the even more sensitive tube to feed into the reservoir for building the protoforms.

" _Yes!_ " Jazz cried, shaking with the blissful pleasure of it, the rightness of feeling Prowl filling him, though his rhythm never faltered as his lover seized beneath him. When he felt the charge of the overload dissipate he let go of his spike, moved his hand back down, and tipped his head forward, meeting Prowl's pleasure-bright optics. "Touch me, overload me," he commanded, voice thick with static and field heavy with _want_.

Bound hands came forward without hesitation, Prowl's hips still thrusting into his mate as his charge built for a second discharge. He caressed Jazz's face, down his chest to pay special attention to the construction chamber that had expanded Jazz's abdominal structure as far out as his chest. He could feel the heat, the vibration of the machinery working hard to build two protoforms.

"So beautiful," Prowl whispered, awed that he was indeed the creator of mecha he would raise.

"So are you," Jazz purred, leaning forward into the touches, armor loose and panting. "My pet, you are so perfect, so good, you earn everything I give you, every touch, you are the one I choose as lover, as sire, as mate, my love, always." His hips sped up and his fingers gripped the berth while he moved in effort to coax more transfluid from Prowl.

Prowl shook and thrust, his fingers moving down to capture Jazz's thickly ruffled spike in both hands, stroking, curling his fingers inward to rub between the ruffles. "Overload for me, my beautiful Lord," he gasped as he thrust, his charge already high again. "Allow me to witness your bliss."

Jazz's hips bucked up and broke the rhythm of his movements, torn between the rapture from Prowl's spike and the ecstasy from his fingers, and with a deep, strangled moan he sank down fully and overload shot through his frame, bright arcs of static crackling away from his plating and jumping to Prowl where they touched, shooting transfluid onto his chest and cycling his valve in rippling bliss as he screamed his joy.

All Prowl could do was join him, keening sharply as he lost himself completely to the bliss of pleasuring his mate so fully. The shift in tone of Jazz's cries when transfluid hit the sensor nodes deep inside him and was sucked into his frame to be used struck an even deeper cord in Prowl and he sobbed, his vents and frame shuddering at the intensity of the perfection.

Jazz fell forward when his arms gave out, pressing their chests flush together directly over their sparks. He shook and bucked his hips back unevenly, driving himself relentlessly onto Prowl's spike. His over-sensitized valve, still hot from overload, quivered from the friction, but he didn't slow the pace of their coupling. "More," he begged, sobbed, commanded. "Give me _more_."

"Anything, everything," Prowl moaned, swore, as he worked his hands out from between them and over Jazz's helm so he could hold his lover while they pushed their frames, especially Prowl's frame, to the very limit. Eventually Prowl stilled after he overloaded, frame lax and helm lolling to the aside. Only the cuffs securing his wrists together maintained the embrace he had around his lover.

Jazz groaned and managed to rouse himself after a klik enough to reach back and fumble for the lock mechanism that would trigger the cuffs open, found it, then let his arm fall again as he pulled them both sideways so they could curl together. "My perfect love," he murmured, bringing his hands up to caress Prowl's helm.

"So perfect. So very perfect," Prowl mumbled, more reflex than actual thought as his arms fell to his sides.

Jazz smiled and nuzzled his mate, settling in with him for recharge, feeling the warm, relaxed humming from the twin sparks in response to his own happiness. As his attention slowly drifted, he felt a suddenly impatient twinge and onlined his optics again. 

~Goina pay attention to me now?~ a voice asked. 

"Sharp!" Jazz whispered, shaking his mate. 

~He makes you tired,~ a second voice added. ~You should pay attention to us instead.~

"Mhuu?" Prowl forced his optics on line and to focus despite the top priority demand of his systems to recharge deeply.

"He's talking," Jazz said, grinning despite the overwhelming fatigue in his frame. 

~ _We!_ ~ the pair of voices corrected immediately.

~I know,~ Jazz said. ~Sharp knows, your sire. No one else can know.~

~Going to be obvious soon,~ one of the twins pointed out with a rumble.

It took that long for Prowl's sluggish processors to work out the meaning of Jazz's words, then his optics brightened and he pawed at Jazz's dataport even as his own opened.

Jazz chuckled as he helped his drowsy mate set up the hardline. ~We're working on that,~ he assured the twins as he dropped his firewalls for Prowl and accepted the rapid connection ping that followed. 

~What are they saying? Can they hear me?~ Prowl asked as he forced his processors online.

~We can hear you,~ the second voice chirped. 

~Who are you?~ the first asked with a possessive surge. 

~Your sire,~ Jazz said. 

~'Sharp?'~

~Yes, that is what mecha call me here.~ Prowl answered, a bit awkward with the processor-processor-spark-spark conversation setup. ~My real designation is Prowl.~

~Prowl,~ the second repeated. ~Why are you lying?~

~To protect you,~ Jazz said.

~There is a mech trying to capture us, and you,~ Prowl said more coherently. ~If he does, he will kill both of us, and likely one of you. We do not dare use our real designations out loud no matter how distracted we are.~

~No one is hurting Sideswipe!~ the first voice growled. ~I won't let him.~

~Neither are we,~ Prowl replied. ~What is your designation?~ he tried to direct the thought-words towards the sparkling that had spoken. It was more difficult than he imagined it would be.

~He is Sunstreaker,~ Sideswipe answered for his twin. ~Why would someone try to hurt him?~

~To hurt Prowl and me,~ Jazz said. ~Please do not worry about him, we will protect you. We are doing everything we can to keep you safe.~

Sunstreaker gave a pleased rumble at that. ~I want to _move_.~

~That will take time,~ Prowl said reasonably. ~You must be in your frame and your frame out of Jazz first.~

~Jazz is Carrier,~ Sideswipe surmised. ~Jazz likes moving, moving with you makes him happy, thank you.~

Jazz smiled at his mate. ~Prowl makes me very happy.~

~Especially when I wear him out enough to recharge,~ Prowl purred. ~And yes, Jazz likes to move.~

~I can't wait to move,~ Sunstreaker said. ~Just like you.~

~That will take a bit longer,~ Jazz murmured, fond amusement in his words. 

~Carrier wants to recharge,~ Sideswipe told his twin. ~I am glad you can hear us now,~ he said to his creators. 

~So are we,~ Jazz said. ~And yes, I would like to recharge. So would Prowl,~ he said, looking at his mate's dimming optics.

~Yes, very glad,~ Prowl said, though it wasn't as well directed. Jazz had asked for everything he had to give, and he'd given. Even this short conversation was eating into his reserves. ~Talk more later,~ he promised, no longer able to keep his processors from shutting down along with his frame.

Jazz nuzzled his recharging mate fondly and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close, enjoying the warmth of the frame and feel of Prowl's field mingled with his own. 

~Recharge well,~ Sideswipe said, and Sunstreaker rumbled in agreement. 

Jazz pulsed as much love into his spark as he could, before his systems followed Prowl's into deep, needed recharge.

* * *

Jazz looked up from where he was sitting on the berth working with a blaster, practicing taking it apart and putting it back together, examining the pieces carefully as he did. He smiled warmly at his mate. "Welcome home," he said, staying where he was. "What kind of mood are you in today?"

"The mood to talk," Prowl chuckled and settled on the berth far enough away not to disturb his mate. "You can finish that first, though."

Jazz hummed as he rapidly put the pieces together with a set of flawless, practiced motions, twisted the barrel back into place with a click, and looked up at his mate, handing him the weapon. "I like this model," he said. 

"Good," Prowl's pleasure was audible. "It's good you can defend yourself better now." He moved over and reached to cup Jazz's cheek to draw him in for a chaste kiss full of warmth. "Your target scores have improved as well."

Jazz hummed back into the kiss and pulled Prowl in close as he lay down, bringing his mate down with him as he reclined back. "I like knowing I'll be able to protect our creation," he said, pressing his fingers over Prowl's dataport. It slid open immediately and the connection was welcomed the moment the cable connected.

~Love you, all three of you,~ Prowl said first. ~How are our twins doing?~

~Resting,~ Jazz said, nuzzling against Prowl's helm. ~There was chatter about us today. Prowl and Jazz us.~ He kept his voice and field as soothing as possible so as not to alarm his mate with those words.

~What kind of chatter?~ Prowl still tensed, but he kept it mild, confident that if his mate wasn't concerned he didn't need to be.

~Some more thugs at Whisper Wind's House poking around, asking about how long Sweetness had lived there, demanding his employment records,~ Jazz said. ~Nothing to worry about, we just happen to live in the same city that another known twin carrier did.~

~Nothing that will harm him, his triad or their twins either, if I recall correctly. He worked there longer than you've been functioning, and bonded to a triad before that. It's a strong alibi.~ Prowl relaxed the rest of the way.

Jazz nodded and stroked his thumb over Prowl's jaw. ~The chatter about us is the same, too. Mecha who know anything about seneschals are certain you couldn't have taken me against my will.~

~That's nice that they're saying it, even if that's only a tiny fraction of the population," Prowl smiled at him and stroked his back. ~It is as good a lead-in as anything however. We need to make the final arrangements for how we will explain the twins after they emerge.~

~Do you think Engineer will still help us?~ Jazz asked. 

~Yes. I am valuable to her.~ Prowl was sure of that. ~However, there are many mecha here that know you are the carrier and I am not. Some of them are far less trustworthy. I know we just settled down, but it would be safest for the twins if we moved. When we arrive in the next city, we can claim we carried one each. Unusual, but far less so.~

Jazz mused that over for a few moments. ~What about your job?~ he asked, more concerned with Prowl having work that filled his processors' needs than the idea of moving. ~You enjoy your work.~

~Yes. There are many jobs I will enjoy. I will get another,~ Prowl assured him. ~It is safer for the twins if we move on. Perhaps to Praxus?~

Jazz immediately started purring. ~And get to play with your doorwings again?~ he asked. ~Absolutely.~

Prowl couldn't help but laugh. ~Yes, you'll get to play with my doorwings again, and I'll get to play with yours. It will be nice to look like myself again, even if none of the details can match.~

~Let the twins separate here, and then move, or move, separate, and shift?~ Jazz asked. ~No one can see me carrying in Praxian form.~

~Tell Engineer I'm taking you on vacation to Iacon for the separation. Move to Iacon, arrange to seem to deactivate, shift, separation, shift and move to Praxus.~ Prowl edited. ~We'll be close to the best medical care if anything goes wrong, and Iacon is a beautiful city to visit.~

~She will be disappointed,~ Jazz commented. ~How are we for funds for that?~

~Very good,~ Prowl said firmly. ~My pay has been very good and we have saved up well. At least one of us will need to find work soon once we are in Praxus, but we should not be in the desperate shape we have been for prior moves.~

Jazz hummed. ~Well that would be nice,~ he said with a smile. ~I'm certainly not going to complain about not starting out in cheap hotels and dirty alleys. Though you have to admit there's a certain nostalgic charm to it...~

Prowl snorted. ~No thank you. I'll skip that nostalgia trip if you don't mind.~

Jazz grinned at him. ~We can be nostalgic in other ways anyway,~ he said, hand wandering down Prowl's side to touch his flank. ~Especially once that sire coding has calmed down.~

~Yes,~ Prowl purred, a soft moan escaping his vocalizer. ~I am _so_ looking forward to that. I miss the variety. I miss my endurance and our games.~

~Mmm, lover, I am so going to have my way with you as soon as I can,~ Jazz hummed, hooking his leg around Prowl's as Prowl's spike cover slid open reflexively. ~Just remember we're going to have a set of twins running around to deal with.~

~So long as I get your spike,~ Prowl moaned as his pressurized between them, ready to contribute to the frames and processors of his creations.

~Often and eagerly,~ Jazz promised as he rolled onto his back, bringing Prowl with him and pulling him into a deep kiss as he spread his legs apart, ready for everything Prowl had to give him.


	19. Iacon

For once, getting caught up in the slow crawl of traffic wasn't actually annoying. The low speeds meant they could safely look around them as they drove and it gave them a long, leisurely roll into Iacon, the great capital of their planet and empire. It was a sight worth savoring, even for them, and they had long ago stopped actively caring about having luxuries like sightseeing in their lives.

It was hard to deny that the city was beautiful, though. Built to be a fortress for their history and culture, it was every bit imposing and impressive as its reputation. Appropriate to them, in a way, because this city was going to be the end of one life and the beginning of yet another. Prowl had said farewell to Engineer and Drift for what he knew was likely the last time and Jazz had accepted the well wishes of his friends and made plans to visit as soon as he got back for them all to meet his sparkling, who, if all went well, they should all believe deactivated with its creators in just another metacycle. 

Until then, though, they were going to treat this as every bit the vacation that it was pretending to be, and once they'd relaxed and recovered from the road in their luxurious hotel room (an early separation gift from Engineer), purchased tickets for a ballet that Jazz was begging to see, and enjoyed their private hot oil pool, Prowl couldn't wait to go exploring in the city's renowned archives to kill the joors until the ballet started.

Jazz was less thrilled with the idea of archive exploring, but he had a datapad full of puzzles and games, not to mention the twins, to keep him entertained. Just how excited Prowl was made him sad, though, a reminder of just how much Prowl had given up to be with him.

~Carrier,~ Sideswipe prodded at him as Jazz watched his mate, reflecting on that and the life Prowl could have had without him. The twins had both apparently started paying attention again after resting previously. ~You feel sad.~

~I'm just thinking,~ Jazz said.

~About Sire?~ Sunstreaker prodded a bit more. ~Why would Sire make you sad?~

~He doesn't,~ Jazz said. ~He makes me very, very happy. But he gave up a life he loved for me, and I know he misses it. That makes me sad.~

~He loves you a lot then,~ Sideswipe said firmly.

~He'd better,~ Sunstreaker added. 

~He does. And both of you,~ Jazz said, smiling as he trailed behind his mate, who was doing nothing to hide how much he was enjoying himself in the vast libraries. The twins both settled quietly after that, much more content now that Jazz's focus had shifted away from the melancholic. 

When he started to get bored, they perked immediately back up, wanting to know why. 

~Prowl and I are very different in some ways,~ Jazz explained. ~He enjoys this, and I can't say I do, much. I prefer to see and do.~

~Why does Sire like it, then?~ Sideswipe asked. 

Jazz chuckled and pinged his mate. ::Love, our creation would like to know why you enjoy this, and I can't say I have an answer.::

::Core coding,:: Prowl chuckled. ::I am a manager by function. Information is the foundation of management. I crave _knowing_ and learning at a very base level.::

Jazz relayed the transmission through to the twins, who discussed it over their bond for a while, something Jazz could feel more than he could hear. 

~What is your function?~ Sunstreaker finally asked. 

Jazz had to think about that for a few kliks. He'd known with absolute certainty what his function had been, once, but he was less sure now. ~To entertain,~ he finally decided. 

~Entertain Sire?~

Jazz couldn't keep his quiet laugh down, earning him a few glances in the otherwise silent area they were in. ~Yes.~

~What is _our_ function?~ the twins asked in unison. 

~Something you will discover,~ Jazz answered with a bit of a shrug. ~You were created because we wanted you, and love you, not to fill a specialized role as the two of us were.~

~So we can be anything?~ Sideswipe nudged, curious at the idea.

~But how will we discover what we're to do?~ Sunstreaker asked.

That question left Jazz at a loss for an immediate answer. He and Prowl had both been bred, raised and trained for a specific purpose, with an intended role to play, and he could remember how much comfort he'd taken in knowing what that role was. He _knew_ how much comfort his mate still took in knowing what his function was, even if he had been stripped of his title and original role in life. There was no way that kind of craving for a function wasn't going to get passed down to the twins from their coding, two sets that had never been intended to create together. 

~We will help you, Prowl and I,~ Jazz finally said. ~We will find what you most enjoy doing, and do everything in our power to help you find a part to play in our world doing it. Anything you can imagine. But you don't need to worry about that for a very long time.~

~We like to go fast!~ the pair replied in cheerful unison.

~Then you will go fast,~ Jazz promised them. ~But only as fast as is safe,~ he quickly modified.

~How can fun be not safe?~ Sideswipe asked curiously.

Jazz almost groaned. That question was so much better suited for Prowl, though he'd gotten more than a few lectures on the subject as a youngling. ~Because you can get hurt if you are not careful, especially if you are having fun and not paying attention to your own safety.~

He could feel the pair exchange looks, their twin bond alive with a debate.

~Nothing is going to hurt Sides.~ Sunstreaker growled. ~I won't let it.~

~Neither will we,~ Jazz said. ~We won't let anything hurt either of you.~

The twins settled down for another rest, still easily tired by talking, leaving Jazz to his games and watching his mate's joy fondly until it was time to get detailed for the ballet. Though openly reluctant to leave, Prowl guided them to the entrance before Jazz's alarm went off that it was time to leave, though it was by less than a klik.

"We'll come back," Jazz promised his mate, linking their arms together as they walked. "Maybe even our creation will enjoy going with you, and you can show him everything."

"I can hope," Prowl smiled, more warmed by the thought, as slim as the possibility was, than he dared admit. It would hurt too much when neither did, and he was sure neither would. Not between Jazz and Vortex's influence. "It would be nice to have a thinker for a creation."

Jazz nuzzled him, sensing the unspoken. "When you carry, I'm sure we will have a thinker." He shifted, lowered his arm to grab Prowl's hand, and pulled him to a stop, bringing their helms together. "You _will_ carry." 

"Yes, I will," Prowl replied far more firmly than he felt. He knew the odds. He knew the timetable. He knew just how low the probability really was that they'd still be together, much less able to bond and kindle by the time it was over. He kept all of that carefully away from his lover. Jazz did not need to know any of it. "When this one is mature, I will carry our next."

Jazz gave him an odd look as they continued walking, but didn't say anything until they had gotten back to the hotel, and then they both carefully kept to the lighter, casual conversation of the evening's plans, and Jazz's excitement about the ballet quickly made him forget everything else. The light talk continued through their detailing, though it was nothing like what a noble would call detailing, and the pleasant drive to the theater where the performance was.

"Hey! Look at that," Jazz said as they drove past a vid-sign advertising a performance in a smaller theater, showing slender mecha painted in bright, provocative colors. Prowl gave a noncommittal hum in response. 

When they reached the theater, Prowl produced the tickets and they were let in, Prowl slipping a hand silently onto Jazz's back, a statement of his ownership of this carrier, a warning for others to stay away that here was enough to keep interest in Jazz to a few looks that lasted a bit too long, but not even a verbal approach.

"I haven't been to one of these in so long," Jazz said, practically quivering with excitement as they sat down. Decent seats in the center of the house, nothing extravagant but still with a good view. 

"I hope you enjoy it as much as you recall," Prowl's voice was rich with genuine warmth as they settled side by side, the armrest between them lifted so Jazz could lean into his mate.

"I'm sure I will," Jazz said, relaxing happily. 

Less than a groon in, though, Jazz was not quite as confident. The performers were elegant, to be sure, and their movements graceful, the dance beautiful, but... Jazz frowned. There was no _life_ in this. It was perfect, there was no suffering or pain or struggle. All it reminded him of was a life he'd lived and had torn from him, mecha who had never known hardship. 

And, more than that, it was _boring_. It was the visual equivalent of listening to Duet drone, only there were dozens of them. 

::Sharp...:: he sighed. ::I...think I'm bored.::

::Can you sit through the first quarter, until an intermission?:: Prowl asked quietly. He still had enough social protocols to call on to know, without question, that it was not acceptable to get up in the middle of a scene.

Jazz groaned to himself while nodding. He thought about pointing out that they were going to be deactivated in a few orns and no one would be remembering them for their social skills, but he already felt bad for not enjoying the ballet that Prowl had brought him to. ::I'm sorry...I used to love this, I thought I still would.::

::It shows how much you've changed in less than two vorns,:: Prowl said gently. ::You can take a nap instead of watching. Still rude, but no one will grumble.::

::Nah, I can make it. Plenty of them are very attractive, anyway,:: Jazz said with a smile. ::I'll just focus on that instead.::

::Good,:: Prowl leaned over and kissed his cheek before settling in to finish watching the first quarter of the ballet.

The _nanoklik_ the first quarter ended, Jazz was on his pedes, practically dragging Prowl with him. ::Come on, we might still be able to catch that other show I saw on the way in!::

::You are insufferable,:: Prowl actually laughed, willingly being dragged along. ::The current show does have a few tickets let, though they are not good seats and we will have to wait until intermission to go in.::

Jazz grabbed him in a spinning kiss the moment they were outside, grinning hugely. "You are wonderful, did you know that?" he asked.

"It's coding to indulge one's carrier," Prowl chuckled, his field expressing just how little he needed that excuse. "I worked hard to get you. I'll work hard to keep you."

"Not gonna have to work hard to keep me, lover," Jazz purred. "Just you _try_ to lose me." 

Prowl smiled at him and they transformed together to make the short drive to the much smaller theater. It was less glamorous than the one they'd just been in, and frequented by a lower income bracket, but still clean and respectable, run and owned by mecha who cared about their work. 

As soon as intermission ended they were allowed in and found their seats and settled in, talking quietly while they waited. 

Once the show began again, Jazz's optics lit brightly and he knew he'd made the right decision. These mecha were more than dancers, they were acrobats, there was feeling and passion and _energy_ in everything they did. This was a performance Jazz would never have been allowed to see as a mechling, as provocative and sensual as it was. It felt so much more _real_ , with the abstract colors, themes, and movements that all spoke to the chaos of life. 

Jazz was _enthralled._

Prowl was watching, more bewildered than enjoying, but the delight radiating off Jazz was more than enough to make him smile and enjoy the show. It felt impossibly good to make Jazz that happy, and he reveled in it.

::Look at them!:: Jazz said, watching one of the performers seem to dance up a sheer metal wall with nothing to hold onto while two others leapt to the top on a series of nothing more than thin cables, pulled taut. ::What I wouldn't give to move like that,:: he said.

Prowl paused to consider the dancers. ::You could, with practice and some minor upgrades.::

Jazz looked down at himself. ::And a decent frame,:: he said. ::Maybe once I have my frame back, if I can find anyone to teach me that.:: The performer who had seemingly walked straight up the wall flipped from his pedes to his hands, and then held so still he could have been a statue while the other two froze in a pose around him. 

On the stage, three of the others had pulled energon blades and were moving in a graceful dance--or what would have been, if it was being performed any slower. The blades were moving so quickly they registered as smears across their optic sensors. ::A _lot_ of practice,:: Jazz said, awed.

::Yes, a lot of practice,:: Prowl agreed. ::This level of performance likely takes decades, if not centuries to attain, and constant practice to maintain. It requires great dedication..::

Jazz hummed thoughtfully. ::A goal, then. I'm sure that kind of skill will come in very useful,:: he said, voice dark.

::Knowing how to move one's frame quickly and easily is always useful,:: Prowl agreed just as seriously. ::We are headed to Praxus next. Have you thought about what frame to have?::

::Praxian?:: Jazz said with a shrug. ::There are a couple designs I've found that I like, haven't picked one yet. Do you think I'll still look like I've just gone through a separation?::

::No, we'll wait long enough that we can pass off that we've each carried one,:: Prowl nuzzled him affectionately. ::Besides, it's better if we allow the mini factory inside you to be broken down naturally.::

Jazz nodded. ::I don't even really want to shift at this point. I'd feel better if Mucit was close by,:: he sighed. ::Just in case. I hadn't thought about what a shift might do to them.::

::Mucit and Wheeljack are certain it will be fine,:: Prowl nuzzled him. ::I asked extensive questions about shifting while carrying.::

Jazz smiled and hummed. ::Is there anything you don't think of?:: he asked, undertones of love, gratitude, and relief beneath the glyphs.

::Only when I do not have enough information to predict possible needs,:: Prowl teased in reply.

Jazz pulsed affection in his field and leaned against his lover, his frame warm and vibrating with the contented purring of his engines and the work being done on the protoforms. He could feel the twins rousing with interest at the surges of delight they were feeling as the performers executed perfect, spark-stopping moves, and shifted his focus forward for them to experience the show with him.

* * *

Jazz tossed his helm back and keened, back arching away from the berth, frame rigid with tension and the ties around his wrists pulled taut as Prowl moved over him, the mix of having his lover's spike buried in him and having the interfacing hardline connected making every part of him _hum_ with ecstasy. 

~ _Prowl!_ ~ he cried while his vocalizer moaned senselessly. ~Close, _so_ close, lover please, don't stop!~

"Never," Prowl moaned the promise he meant with all his spark, his voice rolling over his lover in an intentional play to Jazz's love of his voice. "Your pleasure is everything. So addictive."

" _Nn_ \--" The answering groan cut off sharply as Jazz's vocalizer shorted in a wash of static. He'd held out as long as he could, wanting to feel every surge of energy and transfluid that Prowl could give him as nothing short of bliss, and even though this wasn't going to be his first overload of the evening, it was definitely going to be the most intense once it hit. ~Just a little--a little--right, _oh_ , there, right there right _there!_ ~ he cried as his hips bucked up onto Prowl's spike in a sudden counter-rhythm, the jolt and subsequent energy feedback rebooting his vocalizer in time for him to _scream_ as he thrashed, caught in the grip of a cascading energy overload while his valve clenched down in its own surge of ecstasy.

Prowl howled with him, pumping nanite-rich transfluid deep into his lover in an overload that was as much relief to stop holding back as it was ecstasy. Time, reality blanked out for them as the energy tore through their frames, only finally expending itself and allowing their frames to sink to the luxurious berth in a sated exhaustion.

"Love you," Prowl mumbled, only barely coherent. ~Let loose?~

Jazz twitched his wrists weakly, testing against the bindings, then nodded, no more coherent than Prowl was. ~Ah, love you, Prowl, lover, lover, Prowler,~ he murmured, combining the two glyphs together, then gave a silly, dazed half-grin. ~Prowler...I like that. Prowler,~ he purred as Prowl reached up to fumble at the ties with fingers that were still trembling as bad as his own. 

~That is not my designation, Jazz,~ Prowl replied, though here across the hardline it was impossible for him to hide that he didn't really mind. His hand fell away once the binding was loose, soon followed by his frame sliding to the side to put less pressure and heat on Jazz's. ~Just a couple more decaorn and they'll be running on their own,~ he purred, stroking Jazz's abdominal armor.

Jazz hummed, covering Prowl's hand with his own. ~I can't wait to really meet them,~ he said, turning his head to look at his lover. ~Any changes now that you've seen the city? Same location that we chose earlier?~ he asked, switching over to their faked deactivation. 

~I've found a better place, but the basics are the same,~ Prowl said as he settled against his sparkling-heavy mate. ~We were driving towards a small racetrack, one the concierge recommended for a good time to watch, but not too exciting for you and a hyper-vigilant first time sire.~ He chuckled at that description of himself. ~A section of the roadway collapsed under us, sending us falling several levels to our destruction. Enough to make the news, but not enough to cause much more than a basic investigation. A tragic accident, but nothing more.~

Jazz nodded and let his optics go offline as he relaxed fully. He wasn't going to be much use helping in the set-up, his frame as burdened as it was working on the creation of two protoforms (not to mention what would be involved in convincing Prowl to let him help in anything that carried any kind of risk, such as this did). ~When?~

~I've found the frames and made the modifications needed,~ Prowl murmured, intentionally shielding Jazz from exactly how he'd managed it. ~I'd like to do this in two orns. I'll miss this luxury after we change.~

~It isn't too late to back out,~ Jazz said. ~I know you liked Engineer's employ, she can still help us, even if it would be tricky.~

~Too many mecha know that if we have two sparklings, you must have been carrying twins,~ Prowl sighed, stroking Jazz's frame gently. ~Far too many we can not trust. The odds it will go badly are simply too high.~

Jazz nodded, optics flickering back on for him to stare at the ceiling. ~You keep giving up things you love because of me,~ he whispered. ~I still don't understand why.~

~I love you,~ Prowl responded simply.

Jazz turned to look at him and managed a smile. ~That's the part I don't understand,~ he said, only half joking, and the smile faded as his hand slid down to his abdomen. ~Not just because...I had ready creation potential?~

~You are a noble, Jazz. I am a commoner. It was always to be my place as your berthwarmer, not the other way around. If I was very, very lucky, you might just agree to allow me to carry your creation, though you could never admit it was yours.~ Prowl's reminder of the world they'd come from was gentle but pointed.

Jazz made a soft, thoughtful sound. ~That all changed the moment we stepped through those gates,~ he said. ~Sooner if you count what no one knew. You betrayed your House and I my family and Intended the moment we kissed.~ His hand came up to stroke Prowl's helm. ~I want you to carry my creation, and I want to tell the entire world, and I want to carry yours.~

~You are carrying mine,~ Prowl murmured, thoughts full of how much he loved the twins he had contributed so much material to. ~Yes, and you left behind all that you had been created to be when you walked away as well. Remember that.~

Jazz's optics flickered in momentary surprise, then gratitude surged over the hardline. ~I so love you,~ he said, sighing in relaxation as his spark settled, the words having been exactly what he'd needed to be reminded of. 

~Carrier?~ Sideswipe nudged along with his twin, having been silent until now, roused long ago by the intense emotions Jazz had been feeling and now feeling it was okay to speak. ~You were sad again. Sire helped you?~

~I hope so,~ Prowl cooed at them. ~Your carrier sometimes forgets his worth and needs to be reminded that I love him as more than a carrier.~

~Carrier knows that you love him,~ Sunstreaker said firmly. ~He told us so.~

Jazz smiled at Prowl. ~Your sire has an incredible, amazing spark, and sometimes I wonder what I ever did to deserve him,~ he explained as best he could. 

~So do you,~ Sideswipe said, flaring warmly. ~We can feel so.~

~Listen to our sparklings,~ Prowl chuckled softly as he settled for some recharge. ~All three of us agree that you have an amazing spark.~

Jazz purred. ~You deserve nothing less,~ he said, pressing as close to his mate as he could. ~Everything I am is for you.~

~You are always so warm and bright after moving with Sire,~ Sideswipe hummed, curling his awareness with Jazz's spark. 

~Can't wait to move,~ Sunstreaker rumbled. 

Jazz chuckled, feeling his fatigued mate slip off into recharge over the hardline. ~I am, and you will,~ he answered. ~I must rest now. I love you both.~

Their echoing agreement was the last thing Jazz registered before his processors slipped offline, surrounded by his lover's field and feeling his peripheral systems over the deep intimacy of the interfacing hardline.

* * *

::The next time you tick off dispatch, I am going to disavow you as my partner,:: an Iacon enforcer grumbled to his partner as they wove their way down to where reports of a roadway collapse had originated.

::What!:: Chaser protested indignantly. ::This isn't that bad...it might even be a real report for once,:: he added brightly. ::You never...whoa.:: He stopped as they came around a corner that give them a view of the collapsed section of road and the drop that it would have led to.

"If anybody was on that section when it went down, this isn't going to be much of an investigation," Tapper murmured as he transformed and walked to the edge to study the collapse.

Chaser transformed behind him, very uneasy with how close his partner was getting to the wreckage. "Would you _please_ wait until an Aerial unit gets here to look at the structure from below?" he said, peering down over the side from where he was. "Slag, I see frames in that mess, we have to get down there." 

Tapper nodded and stood to join his partner at the side of the road to look down. "At least the scavengers don't seem to have done too much damage yet." He stepped away and transformed. "Let's go."

Chaser revved his engines as he followed down the complicated path of switchturns that led them down to where the debris had all settled, using the old maintenance framework that didn't look like it had been driven on in metacycles, or updated in vorns. Tapper transformed in front of him and Chaser stood with a flip to the ground, both of them running over to the crushed piles that were very obviously deactivated frames, even from a distance, each of them kneeling in front of one. 

"Yeah, this one's gone, chamber's in pieces," Chaser said. 

"Oh Primus," Tapper breathed a small prayer. "Rest in the Well, little one." He looked over at his partner. "Carrier, final stage."

"Ah, slag," Chaser said, then cringed from the disapproving look Tapper shot him and walked over, bowing his head and murmuring another prayer for the lost sparkling. Finished, he lowered his hand and looked up, peering at the roadway. "Intentional?"

"Always possible, but unlikely," Tapper sighed as he plugged into the carrier to run an ID scan. "There have been complaints about that spot for vorns. Carrier is Strata. Sparkling is Tango." He pinged the datanet for them. "Listed as visiting from Simfur for the separation. Go see if that one's Sharp from Simfur. The sire is supposed to be with them."

"Man, nothing exciting ever happens on our shifts," Chaser said, kneeling down in front of the other and confirming his partner's guess. "Yeah, Sharp from Simfur. Damn." He looked at the two frames, then back up at the collapsed section of roadway. "What were they doing way out here? Says they were staying at Iacon Heights, that's nowhere near here." 

"Probably got lost," Tapper x-vented as he stood and called the data in. "Doesn't matter how good the datanet is, you get a few every vorn that end up where they don't belong."

Chaser rumbled with displeasure as he looked at the carrier. "We should go to the hotel and talk with the staff anyway," he said. "Boss'll stripe us to bolts if we leave any loose ends with a carrier involved."

" _I'll_ strip you to bolts if that happens," Tapper pointed out firmly. "We wait for the M.E. and frame pickup. If something is hinky, the last thing we need is evidence disappearing in what is legally our custody."

"Pain in the aft," Chaser grumbled. "A dozen reports to fill out for bad road maintenance." He looked the pair over once more, back up at the fall they'd taken, winced, and settled in to wait.

* * *

"Why doesn't anyone _tell_ you about this part?" Jazz complained from where he was sitting by the window of the small hotel room, helm resting against the mostly-opaque material as he looked outside, pressed up against the cooler material as much as possible. His frame felt like it was going to start melting through on itself. "All those classes on the carrying process and not one of them mentioned how _hot_ it is." 

"Because it was assumed that you would be in a place where coolant and temperature control would be readily available, and many servants to see to your every need," Prowl answered smoothly as he stretched his new frame, a heavy, low-flying design. "You'll remain that hot until the construction chambers have been completely disassembled and absorbed."

Jazz sighed, slumped, and watched his beautiful mate jealously. His own frame was closer to what the original rebuilds had looked like, boxy and utilitarian, with plenty of wide surface area for the construction chambers to grow into. They were taking absolutely no chances with the twins, and as such, Jazz's frame was about as large as the sorcelling tech would permit. For someone who had delighted in his original slender frame and how he'd been able to move it to attract Prowl's attention with natural, easy grace, the cumbersome boxyness was aggravating. "Can't believe you still enjoy 'facing me like this," he grumbled, more to have something to complain about to suit his mood than actual disbelief. 

Prowl chuckled and walked over to rub his hands along Jazz's back. "Just be grateful that we have the credits to keep you in coolant and a soft berth." He kissed his lover's neck. "It could be much worse."

Jazz hummed and arched against the cooler metal of Prowl's hands. "It could be," he admitted, optics unfocusing for a moment as he imagined the dozens of ways of just _how_ it could be worse. He shuddered, shook himself, and focused back on his mate's touches, groaning as his fingers worked their way lower on his back and slipped under the loosened plating to stroke beneath. "Thank you," he murmured. "I think I'm just nervous." 

"Understandably so," Prowl said softly as he continued to relax his mate, getting heavy armor plating to loosen and vent heat. "I remember my first carry. It wasn't that long ago. It's natural to be nervous."

"Does it hurt?" Jazz asked, optics dimming in contentment. "I think that's the kind of detail they would leave out."

"If all goes well, it does not hurt, though it is very unsettling and uncomfortable," Prowl told him. "Would you like to view my memories of it?"

"You wouldn't mind me seeing those?" Jazz asked, well aware that there were parts of his lover's past he did not enjoy reliving, unsure if the memories of the creations he'd never known were part of that. "I don't think anything could be worse than... But I'd feel better knowing what it will be like. I know what's going to _happen_ but that doesn't really help."

"I know," Prow kissed him lightly. "The entire carrying process asks our frames and processors to do things that are just not natural. I will share." He nudged Jazz over to the berth where they could enjoy the contact and plugged in. ~You have a small advantage in knowing their designations and sharing the bond, but it should be similar enough to give you a good sense of what to expect.~

Jazz nodded and looked where Prowl showed him to, quickly skimming the datafile attached to this segment of memory and realizing it was Prowl's first separation. The experience of an uncomfortable shifting and the alarm as part of his frame simply _moved_ and lifted away without being commanded to do so came across strongly, but overall, the majority of the details were of an average memory file, nothing intended for later viewing. Prowl hadn't anticipated needing to--or, more likely, Jazz decided, _wanting_ to--look back on this event. His first sight of Jazz in his mechling upgrades had been in stunningly high resolution compared to this.

The physical sensations that Prowl remembered felt a little like shifting his frame, uncomfortable stretching and plating that felt disturbingly out of place, with the vulnerability of being exposed in a very dangerous way, but this experience lasted much longer. ~What was it like...not talking to them?~ Jazz asked quietly as he watched. ~How were you able to keep the bond shut off like that?~

~It was normal,~ Prowl wasn't sure what else to say. ~I knew before I even met the sires that I would not raise them, that forming emotional ties would cause more harm to both of us than good. The block is part software and part simple desire not to acknowledge it. A newspark goes quiet fairly quickly if you do not respond to it.~

Jazz's spark ached at the thought of not answering to their twins and he nuzzled his mate, as much as he knew Prowl had accepted and come to terms with his situation long ago. He was glad the twins were both recharging deeply, they became very insistent whenever they felt Jazz's mood shifting towards the melancholy like it was now. Even though Jazz couldn't remember any specifics or details about being carried, there was a warmth there and a feeling of connection that he had treasured as a mechling, long after the carrier bond had faded on its own. ~I can't wait to meet our twins,~ he said when the memory cut. ~Thank you, that helped, I don't need to see the others.~

~All right,~ Prowl stroked Jazz's boxy abdominal plating with genuine affection. ~I'm looking forward to finally holding them.~

~I'm looking forward to them carrying their own weight around,~ Jazz said, a gentle tease at himself for how irritable he'd been recently. ~Though I suppose holding them will be nice, as well.~

~You're just looking forward to having that optic-catching shape of yours again,~ Prowl teased him with a kiss while his hand slid lower. ~Feel up to a little pleasure to help settle in this frame?~

~Mmm, yes, I think that would greatly increase my satisfaction with this frame,~ Jazz purred in response. ~And what can I say?~ he added with a huge grin. ~I'm a gorgeous mech and you know it.~

~You know it too,~ Prowl laughed as he stroked Jazz's valve cover. ~You've always knows just how optic catching you are.~

~Yes I have,~ Jazz agreed cheerfully, humming into the touch and sliding the cover away. ~Mm, any chance of a coolant rub when you're done?~

~I'd be happy to,~ Prowl purred as he scooted down to settle between his lover's legs and licked at the fluffed out platelets already glistening with lubricant. ~And now that construction is almost finished, I can even stand to play around a little. You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to feeling you pump liquid heat into me again.~

~I'm going to make your gyros spin,~ Jazz moaned, lifting his hips into Prowl's mouth, his frame aching for his mate's transfluid. ~I can't wait to really enjoy spiking you again. And swallowing your spike and tasting your valve and bending you over and... _ohh_.~ He shivered, his fingers gripping Prowl's helm.

~And dancing for me, rousing me until I can't take it any more and plead for you to finish so you can spread my legs and take me,~ Prowl panted across the hardline, lapping at his lover until Jazz was shivering and moaning shamelessly above him. It felt good just to have this much variance, even though he couldn't even hold back enough to fully enjoy Jazz's first overload before driving his spike deep into that pulsing valve and thrusting until he roared, the pleasure bouncing back and forth across the hardline in a blissful maelstrom of movement and energy that only broke when Prowl's reserves dipped too low and forced him to remain still after his final overload.

The purring, sated carrier beneath him nuzzled him as he tucked his face against the exposed neck. "Coolant rub after we recharge," he murmured, snuggling up against him as they both slipped offline.

* * *

"Taris," Jazz looked up at his aerial-framed mate from where he was lounging, watching Iacon pass by below and around him at the window seat. "It's time."

Prowl both tensed and relaxed, relieved that the wait was finally over. Without a sound he stood and helped Jazz to his pedes, then to the berth. They were going to leave a horrible mess for the cleaning drones, but neither cared. These names and frames would be dead within an orn if all went well.

"Hardline," Prowl said firmly when he had Jazz on his back. "I've done this before."

Jazz nodded, gripping Prowl's hand as he x-vented carefully and tried to steady himself and his rapidly pulsing spark, letting the dataport spiral open for his lover. 

"And now that it's happening, suddenly less calm," he said with a short, nervous laugh, then made a face as his plating shifted without his direction. "Nn, weird." 

~Yes, it is,~ Prowl agreed once he was plugged in. He smoothly guided Jazz to watch the most important protocols and relevant data streams on his systems as well as of the sparklings. ~The most dangerous point for all involved is the first klik as they separate the final cable. That is when their systems must sustain them, and your systems must recalibrate very quickly to the lower drain. If anything will go terribly wrong, that is when it is most likely.~

~Okay,~ Jazz said, nodding, then again, steadier, ~Okay.~ He watched the data streams that were scrolling by almost too quickly to read, telling him of all the rapid changes that were being made to the internal structure of his frame. ~Are you ready, little ones?~

~Get to _move!_ ~ Sunstreaker said, the connection swelling with excitement. 

~And go fast!~ his twin said, and Jazz grimaced in a way that looked like the sparkling had just stretched out a bit too far.

~Soon, just hang on,~ Jazz said, gripping Prowl almost painfully tight. 

~Relax, little ones,~ Prowl focused on the restless pair. ~It will be easier if you wait until everything is ready to release you.~

They settled, only slightly, and more than a little grudgingly, but at least they were holding still. ~Thank you,~ Prowl said to them as his mate's ventilations sped up and armor shifted and clicked, preparing to open once Jazz's frame had released the twins from the multitude of connections keeping them wired in with his systems. He could already see the plating start to shift and loosen over Jazz's abdomen. 

~Prowl!~ Jazz said, tensing predictably as one of the larger plates shifted, reaching out over the hardline. 

~It's gong well,~ Prowl assured him. ~All your abdominal armor will shift aside, moving in all directions to clear the chambers as quickly as possible. You are doing well, as are the twins.~

~Right, okay, normal, good,~ Jazz said, and managed to settle back on the berth as Prowl soothed him over the hardline, keeping a close watch on all three systems. Even as quickly as everything was going, it still seemed an intolerably long wait before everything was really set to begin and changes started happening more quickly. 

By that point, Jazz was panting from the heat and strain. The soft _snkt_ of multiple wires and connections releasing was barely audible over the whirring of his cooling systems that were drawing in external air at a rate that was already beginning to affect the overall temperature of the small room, and Prowl could only hope at this point that it stayed low enough for none of them to overheat. By rights, Jazz's first separation should have been in a room with an open balcony, surrounded by his family, his bonded, at least one specialist medic with assistants, the House medic, and servants to bring anything he could want. Instead, he was in a small, featureless hotel room on a berth with thinner padding than they'd slept on in metacycles. 

~You know I would rather be here,~ Jazz panted, looking at his lover with bright optics, having caught most of that line of thought.

~I know,~ Prowl swirled his love and devotion across the connection. ~It does not mean I cannot want better for you, them, _us_.~

Movement inside Jazz's armor brought Prowl's full focus to the twins and three thin, protoform arms squirming, pushing and pulling to help their owners get out first.

~Sideswipe, Sunstreaker. Settle.~ Prowl ordered sharply. ~You'll damage your carrier.~

~We're sorry,~ Sideswipe said quickly as they both froze, and Sunstreaker's hardline _throbbed_ with impatience. 

Jazz huffed a short laugh. ~Oh, if either of them is anything like I was as a sparkling, this is going to be fun.~ He made an odd, strangled sound that was quickly followed by the creak of plating rapidly rearranging itself, drawing back fully in a matter of nanokliks to show the sparklings' creation chamber. 

~ _Me first!_ ~ the twins cried in unison, and both of them struggled up, reaching and gripping onto whatever they could find and pulling. 

~Ow-- _ow!_ ~ Jazz cried, yelping and wincing, and the alarm that there was any kind of pain came immediately after.

~Calm,~ Prowl focused that order on Jazz even as he reached into Jazz's abdomen and forcefully stopped one of the twins from crawling forward. ~One at a time,~ he hissed at the pair. ~There is only room for one at a time.~

~But!~ came the protest, simultaneous with the other twin's, ~Yes!~ as the protoform that wasn't being forcefully restrained squirmed upwards, the final cables connecting him to Jazz's systems snapping as he drew himself up and out. 

"Sideswipe," Jazz said, smiling as the chirping, clicking, completely unarmored sparkling protoform crawled up to nuzzle against his neck. Sideswipe settled, curled inside his carrier's cradling arm.

~ _Me!_ ~ Sunstreaker demanded, wriggling under Prowl's hand.

~Yes, you,~ Prowl smiled and helped the squirming, oil and lubricant covered protoform, utterly identical to his brother, out of the creation chamber and tucked him in Jazz's other arm. "Can you read your fuel level?"

The protoforms looked up at him, then at each other, quickly conferring with each other before they looked back at Prowl and chirped in affirmative. Jazz sagged in relief, then shivered suddenly as his systems were faced with a dramatic fuel redirection without the twin protoform construction to sustain. 

"Redirecting," Jazz said, voice tight. "But steady." His armor started closing back up again, the movements smoothed by the lubricant and oil spilled from the open construction chambers.

~Good,~ Prowl stroked Jazz's helm. ~Recharge, my love. I'll watch your systems and see the twins are fed.~

~But...~ Jazz whispered, looking at the pair of identical faces that was peering up at him, each one of them looking so impossibly tiny in his hands. But he was drained and his systems were demanding immediate recharge in order to engage the deeper self-repair routines needed to help reconstruct his frame. "Love you, all three of you," he murmured, before his optics flickered off and his systems powered down.

Prowl drew a deep breath of too-hot air, judged it acceptable and turned his focus to monitoring his mate while the climate control for the room did its work.

"So, my little ones," he reached over to caress each of their tiny heads, not yet covered by a helm, or any protection at all. "Try to initialize your vocalizer so you can communicate more easily."

The basic, experimental chirping continued for another klik or so as the twins debated and confirmed the correct protocols to execute, and with a series of testing whistles and clicks at each other, brought their vocalizers online. 

"Sideswipe," Sunstreaker said, and his field flared with pleasure at the correctly-pronounced glyph, even if it was a little staticky. 

"Sunstreaker," his twin said, sounding much the same, before they both looked up at Prowl. "Sire!" the exclaimed proudly. 

"Yes," he smiled warmly at the pair. "What are your fuel levels?"

"They are...sixty," Sideswipe said slowly, getting a feel for speaking. He crawled over to his twin on the side of the berth Prowl was on and reached out, touching his plating curiously. Sunstreaker nuzzled him, moving his hand over Sideswipe's outstretched arm, optics following and focusing as the vision systems executed their own initializing tests. 

Prowl nodded, watching them explore, but content to let them so long as they weren't in danger. Jazz's systems were repairing nicely, just as he'd expected given the quality of the noble's protoform.

After a few kliks he pulled two small cubes from his subspace. "It is time to fuel."

They turned their faces up, regarding the cubes. "Like you and carrier do," Sideswipe said, while Sunstreaker held his hands out.

"Yes," Prowl smiled warmly in approval and handed each a cube, making sure it was stable in their grip before letting go. "Drink slowly, and watch your levels. You don't want to go above 90% yet."

They obeyed without question or hesitation, survival programming dictating that Sire was to be obeyed guiding them to tip their heads back in order to drink. They stayed silent and still while they focused on their readings, and stopped at the same time, cubes most of the way gone, and held their arms out, handing them back.

"Very good," Prowl's engine purred in approval while his field and voice carried the same. He put the cubes away. "Now it would be best to recharge and allow your systems to settle." He reached out and gently stroked each of their bare heads. "You are both so perfect. You did well this orn."

Sideswipe beamed at him. "Will you recharge with us?" he asked.

"I need to maintain a watch on your carrier's systems," Prowl said gently as he moved to bring a chair over. "I'll be right here where you can teek my field."

"All right," Sunstreaker said as he looked down at himself before Sideswipe tugged his hand, pulling him along up towards Jazz's collar. "Will we always be so slimy?" he asked dubiously. 

"No," Prowl chuckled gently. "I'll clean you up when you are recharging."

"Good," Sunstreaker said firmly before giving in to his twins' insistent prodding and curling up with him, giving a tiny, pleased rumble at the warmth and familiarity of Jazz's armor and Sideswipe's proximity. 

"It is very nice to move," Sideswipe said quietly, happily. "We will go fast later." 

"Yes," Sunstreaker agreed, then their optics powered down in unison and they were soon in their own deep recharge, pressed close together and cuddled into Jazz's frame. 

Prowl watched the pair and Jazz recharge peacefully for several long kliks before reaching into his subspace for several cloths. It wasn't a washrack, but he could at least get the worst of it off all three of them before they booted up again.


	20. Praxus

"You certainly look different," said the sleek Praxian femme who was looking Prowl up and down. "Though the last time I actually saw you, you looked more like them," she pointed at the sparklings in their arms.

They were here for the records they'd need to pass off as Praxian citizens who had each carried one of the twins, who were not to even be officialy related if everything worked out correctly. This favor was a risky one for Prowl, tracking down a very old friend of his carrier's who he knew worked in medical records to help him officiate everything, and they were trusting that she cared enough about her long-deactivated friend's creation to help them, because she owed Prowl nothing and he had nothing to offer her compared to the risk she was taking.

"I just knew it all had to be nonsense when I heard about it," Delta was continuing. "There was no way a seneschal from your carrier's line could have acted so outrageously. Top quality." She smiled faintly, the first expression she'd shown since they'd gotten here. "I was very fond of your carrier, I was saddened to hear what happened. It is a pity there was not suitable work to be found to delay that end."

"Yes, though I understood his choice well," Prowl inclined his helm. "I miss them both. You wished to meet our sparklings before agreeing to filing. This is Sunstreaker, his brother is Sideswipe."

Delta nodded in affirmative as Jazz stepped forward, shifting her focus over to the twins who looked back at her with bright, wide optics. "Incredible," she said, looking between the two. "It is really a shame your carry was not studied, they are remarkable. You must be very proud." 

"We are," Jazz said, smiling. He was in Praxian form as well, having regained his shape without incident or complication after the separation.

"They are amazing," Prowl said with all the sappy, delirious pride of a new creator. He may have carried three new lives, but he'd never been a _creator_ before, and he was loving it. "Very smart, already very active and fearless."

"They would be smart," Delta said, purring deeply in her chassis as she held her arms out. "May I?" she asked, directing her question at Sideswipe, who nodded agreeably, but Sunstreaker immediately growled at her. She raised a single optic ridge at him, completely unintimidated. 

"Sunstreaker," Jazz murmured, smiling faintly. "She won't drop him. Go ahead, Sideswipe." 

Sideswipe chirped cheerfully as he climbed over into Delta's arms and crawled upward, touching her face curiously. "We have never seen a femme," he said. "Why are you femme and carrier and sire are mech?"

"Femme is a frametype, like a Seeker, Aerial, convoy or tank. We are built lighter than a mech, but faster and more agile," she smiled at the curious sparkling she was half holding and half being clung to. He was less than half a decaorn old in her estimation, and not only of fine construction as suited his carrier, but in fine shape, a testament to how well cared for his carrier had been and how well cared for he had been since emerging. It warmed her to know that despite having to hide and the separation occurring in a small hotel room, Prowl had taken such exceptional care of his charges.

"Oh," Sideswipe said, peering at her mouth as it moved. He squirmed, looked back at his twin who was watching with intense focus, then held his arms back out towards Jazz. Delta let him crawl back to his carrier, then turned sharply towards her desk, gesturing with her hand for Prowl to follow. 

"Here are the records I've filled out for you," she said, lifting two datapads. "Their information goes in your files, as their carriers and because of their age. These are your copies, I will file the originals with the state later this orn." 

"Thank you," Prowl said as he skimmed them, Sunstreaker following with bright optics, even if he didn't understand the bulk of what he was trying to read. Prowl didn't read every line out of lack of trust, but to lock in his processors all the details. 

Officially, Sideswipe was three orns older than Sunstreaker, and had been carried by Saxo, while Sunstreaker was Pantera's creation. They'd both emerged here at the main hospital, been deemed healthy, and released. Nothing unusual, nothing to draw attention. Both were citizens of Praxus now, and it meant that Jazz, as Sideswipe's carrier and Pantera's mate, had a very good claim at the fast track for citizenship. Pantera didn't need the help, having emerged in Praxus himself.

It was only in reading the details and the thoughts they lead to that Prowl realized that he had every intention of staying in Praxus if he could. It was strange to think of a city he'd never lived in as home, but it resonated true. He was home, and he was not going to let that monster take it from him or his family.

"Everything matches up with the other records I have," he said gratefully before handing Jazz Sideswipe's file. "How can I thank you?"

Delta smiled at him as Jazz read, watching the way Sideswipe was trying to reach for the datapad that was nearly as big as he was. "I'm repaying an old debt to your carrier," she said, shrugging. "Though if you ever feel the need, I would not say no to a purge and organization of my records systems," she added with a grimace, glancing over her shoulder at the uneven stacks of datapads that may or may not have been hiding furniture beneath them. 

"Sideswipe," Jazz admonished quietly as the sparkling covered his view of the screen completely, then gave Prowl a pleading look as he shifted his creation to one arm and held him out towards him. Prowl smoothly and happily took him, shifting a bit so the twins could be in contact with each other.

"I would enjoy that," Prowl actually purred a bit, his doorwings perking up at the prospect of putting the system to rights. "Though it would have to be done around my search for work. Keeping these three comfortable and well-fed must remain my priority."

Delta nodded understandingly and gave a thoughtful hum. "Who would have guessed that after being bred as a carrier you would make such a devoted sire," she mused. "My congratulations on the beautiful pair of sparklings, to both of you, and don't worry, this mess isn't going anywhere," she shook her head at herself.

"I'll come by when I can to work on it," Prowl promised, his doorwings fluttering happily at the complements as he turned to leave with his lover, who subspaced the datapad and took Sideswipe back, nuzzling his creation and then his mate as they left the office.

* * *

After the third sweep of their small but clean apartment Prowl sat down with his mate and creations on the floor in the sparsely furnished living room.

"All right. Remember to keep your voices low," Prowl spoke calmly, meeting the optics of each sparkling in turn, then settled on Sunstreaker. "If you are asked, what is my relationship to you?"

"My creator. My carrier if pressed. Pantera if asked what my carrier's designation is," Sunstreaker spoke quietly and seriously. He didn't understand why the false designations and relationships were important, but he knew they were. "My other creator is Saxo, but he's not my sire, he's your mate."

"Very good," Prowl praised him warmly and honestly. "Sideswipe?" he focused on the elder twin.

Sideswipe perked. "You are Pantera and Carrier is Saxo and you are my carrier's mate and not my sire," he said, equally serious. "I do not have a sire that I know." He paused, hesitated. "Is this because of the mech who wants to hurt us?" he asked quietly, reaching out almost subconsciously for Sunstreaker's hand and the comfort there. 

"Yes," Prowl nodded, pleased at the connection made.

Jazz smiled softly at them. "What is the other thing you must always, always remember?" he asked. 

"We are not twins," the pair recited in unison, and very begrudgingly. They disliked that part of the lie far more than any other. 

"But you said that makes us special!" Sideswipe protested, and when Jazz motioned with his hand for him to speak softer, ducked his head a little and lowered his voice. "Sunny is my twin, I don't want to say he isn't."

"It is because twins are so special that we must conceal that truth as well. You are the only twins to emerge in metacycles. That there was a second twin carry in the same century is unusual enough. If anyone learned you are twins, your age would give us away," Prowl explained gently but firmly.

Sideswipe sighed and Sunstreaker frowned in concern, looking at him. Sideswipe turned his head and they looked at each other in silence, obviously discussing the matter over their bond. 

Jazz exchanged an uneasy glance with Prowl. That behavior would get them noticed just as much as anything else they were concealing, if not more. A misspoken reference to a "twin" at this age could be covered for by a carrier's gentle reminder that not all brothers were twins, but the evidence of a bond between them could not be explained. 

"Sunny, Sides," he said, getting their attention. "You can't let others know when you talk to each other like that." 

"How do we hide _that_?" Sunstreaker huffed with a scowl marring his delicate, beautifully strong features that one orn would make him one of the more attractive mecha wherever he went.

"Don't look at each other when you bond-talk," Prowl suggested. "No more than a quick glance. What you need to do is learn to talk verbally while you bond-talk, so your actions do not seem to come out of nowhere."

"That sounds hard," Sideswipe said, very seriously. "We will practice." 

"We will help," Jazz assured him. "It is not as difficult as you think it's going to be." 

Sideswipe nodded and leaned against his twin. "Why does the bad mech want to hurt us?"

"Because he believes he owns us," Prowl said quietly. "He intends to kill one of you for entertainment."

The sparklings' optics got _huge_ as they stared at their creators. Sunstreaker wrapped his arms around Sideswipe and his little engines growled fiercely. "He will not," he said firmly. 

"No, he will not," Jazz said, and reached over to scoop them both up, bringing them over to settle in his lap while Prowl moved in closer, his doorwings flaring out wide and overlapping with Jazz's to form a shield around their creations. "Pantera and I will never let him hurt you," Jazz said, stroking each of their heads in turn as Prowl rubbed their backs. The sparklings purred into the contact, nuzzling their creators.

"That is why we must be so careful of designations, and little details like who your carrier is and what our relationships are," Prowl added gently, his field extended and full of protective, supportive warmth for all three mecha with him. "So long as the bad mech can not find us, he cannot hurt us."

"We understand," Sideswipe hummed while Sunstreaker nodded very seriously. 

Jazz smiled and tilted his helm to rest against Prowl's, pulsing love and gratitude back. They sat quietly, watching and petting their sparklings until Sunstreaker looked up at Prowl with a chirped request for energon while Sideswipe's optics dimmed in an indication that he needed to recharge. They still couldn't be online for long periods of time and recharged frequently, giving their creators plenty of time to indulge in each other and make up for the time lost to the sire coding. 

Once the pair was fueled and settled comfortably in recharge in the tiny makeshift berth set up near the window that Sideswipe loved to look out of, Jazz stood fully, taking a step back, and felt one of his doorwings hit his mate. "Sorry!" he whispered, cringing with a small, guilty grin as he spun around.

"You'll get used to it," Prowl assured him as he met his mate for a kiss. "Now, how shall we enjoy their nap?"

"I have a few ideas," Jazz hummed, running his fingers down Prowl's arm to twine their fingers together, curling the other hand around the back of his neck to bring him in for another tender brush of his mouth against his mate's, a touch that quickly deepened. "I love you so," Jazz moaned quietly as they drew apart, gripping Prowl tightly, the hand on his neck coming down to press against his chest, x-venting harshly and shaking his head sharply before he led Prowl to their own berth and guided him down onto it. He stretched out against his lover, doorwings folding back as he slid his leg between Prowl's and pulled him into a hungry, aching kiss.

Prowl's valve cover snapped open eagerly, his lubricant already showing to make his valve slick for the spike he adored so much. "It is mutual," he promised between heated kisses, his internal temperature rising quickly. His hands moved along Jazz's frame, caressing and pulling soft moans from him while Prowl rocked his hips against his lover's leg.

Jazz groaned, his hand coming down over Prowl's chest again as he pressed back, his spike starting to pressurize between them. "Never going to get tired of being with you," he said, grinding against Prowl's hip. "Knowing every part of you."

"I want to know everything that makes you feel good, every touch that draws a moan or shiver from you," Prowl purred deeply, pressing into every contact point. He left a lubricant trail on Jazz's thigh as his hand found that ruffled spike he was so enamored of and stroked it lightly. "I've missed this so much. Missed feeling you inside me, riding my valve hard like it belongs to you."

"Because it _does_ belong to me," Jazz said, voice lowering and optics darkening as he lifted himself up and over Prowl, rocking against the teasing fingers that never stopped their touching. He reached back, sliding his hand down Prowl's side to his hip, dipping into the joint for a moment to play with the wires and watch his lover gasp beneath him before sliding down to grip beneath Prowl's leg. 

In a single, smooth motion he angled his hips down, away from the touch, and pushed forward, sheathing himself completely as he pulled Prowl's leg up with him, looking right into his lover's optics as he did. 

Ice blue brightened with the rush of pleasure and Prowl moaned, shuddering as he reached up to run his hands along Jazz's bumper. His valve cycled tight, catching every ruffle on the inward stroke.

"Beautiful," Jazz whispered, stopping when they arrays came flush and holding there, looking his mate's frame up and down as their equipment shivered and crackled together, warming instantly to the welcomed contact. Very slowly, he rocked his hips back and then in again, intakes catching as Prowl's fingers caressed and explored over him. He put his weight down on his elbow, using the hold he had on Prowl's leg to help him drive forward.

He moved slowly, carefully, rocking over his lover and watching the way his expressions shifted in time with his motion, pushing him slowly, taking his time, relearning every part of his frame and this touch until Prowl was panting and loose, gripping Jazz's shoulders and bucking back against him. Jazz shivered. " _Beautiful,_ " he repeated, loving every contour of his lover's bliss-washed face. 

"Addicting, enchanting, so very wonderful," Prowl gasped out as he worked the ruffled contours of the spike pulling out of him. "So very beautiful."

Jazz shook and lowered himself down and pressed his face against Prowl's neck, letting go of his leg to reach up and wrap around his lover's shoulder, gripping tightly as he lost himself into that warm, beloved frame. "All I ever wanted," he moaned. "For you to think I'm beautiful. _Primus._ "

"I have always thought you are beautiful," Prowl moaned, reveling in the length of their interface already and how far they were from overloading. "So enchanting," he whispered into a kiss as he rolled his hips into each smooth thrust and cycled his valve to squeeze around the intensely pleasurable spike. The gentle rocking from above him stayed slow, even, steady, stretching on and building their charge gradually, giving them the time to fully enjoy each other.

Slowly, so very slowly, their shivers and gasps turned into full-framed shudders and deep moans, panted exclamations of love and devotion that grew more and more senseless as the breems went by. 

" _Pantera,_ " Jazz gasped suddenly, and his rhythm faltered, then broke, and he gave a sharp whine as the charge of overload broke over him, leaving him sobbing against Prowl's neck as he spilled into his lover and felt the answering wave of energy crackling over the frame beneath him. It was incredible, like the first time in that grotto so many lifetimes ago when Prowl had coaxed him to overload, told him to let go, and held him as he was lost in his lover's arms. Prowl was holding him tightly, their bliss mutual and drawn out, everything they both wanted.

It was only after they were collapsed and panting together, vents struggling to cool them, that Jazz's processors caught up with a noise he wasn't used to hearing. Armor latches unlocking.

His intakes caught, stuttered, and he lifted his head to look at his lover, optics bright and focused on the face that was more like Prowl's than any he'd seen since his original had been melted away. Beautiful, strong Praxian features with ice blue optics, and beneath that the incredible processors that were powered by the spark he'd so long ago given himself to. 

Jazz shifted to the side, drawing his spike away, and slid his hand down to the center of Prowl's chest, directly over his spark, fingertips trailing over the unlatched and loosened plating. "Love?" he whispered, fingers trembling, spark pulsing wildly in his chest. 

"We ... do not have to merge to enjoy a spark overload," Prowl murmured, only now realizing that his armor had unlocked. "We do ... you don't have to do anything."

Jazz took a slow intake and cycled it through, steadying himself. "Let me see," he said softly as he stroked up and down the seam, though words carried the undertone of a request instead of a command. "Even if we can't... I'd... I'd still like... that is, if you would like..."

"Yes," Prowl smiled warmly up at him and reached to caress Jazz's cheek. He sent the command to expose his chamber and the thick plating slid back in a complex sequence to expose a nearly white light that pulsed and shimmered with the life force of the mech it powered.

Jazz shivered in awe as he looked at it, his fingers tracing around the exposed armor edges for a moment before he reached in and pressed them to the side of the crystal chamber, feeling the warmth and gentle resonance.

"Gently," Prowl gasped, his field a riot with pleasure. "Chambers are delicate."

Jazz nodded and brushed his fingers over the lattice, putting no pressure behind the movements, watching Prowl's face as if shifted through expressions of bliss. "It kills me that he's merged with you and I haven't," Jazz murmured, then flared with _want_ as he imagined merging with his lover, and felt his own armor unlocking.

"I can still touch," Prowl panted, his fingers moving down to caress the seam.

Jazz looked up at him, tracing along the patterns of the crystal, and his own plating shifted and parted, revealing the black crystal cage that surrounded his spark chamber. He centered his fingers over the delicate iris in the middle of Prowl's chamber and held there, his entire frame quivering with longing. "May I touch you?" he whispered.

Prowl nodded, his vocalizer past the ability to make words consistently. The iris split and slowly spiraled open, allowing the leaders to escape and dance along Jazz's fingers, twisting around them and trying to draw them forward.

"Oh," Jazz breathed, stunned by the amount of energy he could feel even in those wisps. He turned his hand over, watching the way the light spilled and flowed through his fingers, wrapping and dancing. Jazz followed them, dipping his hand into the chamber, sinking into the welcoming light, feeling the charge and lifeforce race up along his armor, sinking into even his protoform. He gasped, overwhelmed by how stunning the sight was. 

He'd touched sparks before, wrapped his hand around them as they guttered, their mecha tortured to the brink of death, weakened and flickering by the time he got to them. Felt the dying energy of a spark as it gave out rushing over him, full of all the lost potential of a life never to be lived. 

Nothing like _this_. Even just touching this spark he could feel _power_. "Primus alive," he whispered reverentially, turning his hand over, caressing the light. "Primus inside you."

"Yours ... just ... strong," Prowl managed to gasp through thick static, his processors and frame flooded by a pleasure like no other. Core coding held him still, the desire to arch into that touch and feel _more_ brilliant in his field where it was meshed with Jazz's.

Jazz hummed and very carefully pushed himself up, swinging into a straddle over Prowl's hips and leaning forward, settling down over his lover. "Tell me how this feels," he murmured, and dipped his head down into Prowl's chest to run his glossa along the side of the chamber.

The answer was immediate and nonverbal, because as soon as his glossa touched the crystal, every joint in Prowl's frame locked and he could only scream, his field flaring brightly as he fell into an overload he hadn't seen coming in the least.

Jazz _shook_ as the energy rushed out, over, and through him, as equally unprepared for it as his lover had been and panted when it faded, lifting his head. "Good, apparently," he said with a soft laugh, twirling his fingers in the light as it reseeded, sated, but still curious enough to play with the offered fingers.

"Very," Prowl gasped as his systems settled. He shivered again. "Move ... hand?" he half-asked, intending to say more before a moan welled up inside him.

"Say please," Jazz purred back at him, delighting in the sound of the moan.

"Please, want... touch yours," Prowl shuddered, panting in pleasure.

Jazz raised an optic ridge at him, impressed, and kept playing for a few more moments until a soft keen rose out of Prowl's throat. "Mm, all right," he hummed, and withdrew his hand with no small amount of regret, wanting to keep exploring the pleasure of the offered spark that he loved so deeply, watching the way the tendrils clung to his fingertips, extending as far as they possibly could to follow him out before they finally broke and faded. Only then did the iris cycle closed. He watched in fascination as the chamber withdrew deeper into Prowl's frame before the armor closed.

It took Prowl several dizzying moments to collect himself, then he smiled up at his mate, armor still loose and venting. "That felt amazing," he purred, his fingers sliding along Jazz's armor to reach the edge where he played feather-light touches along a couple heavy leads to the spark chamber and the intricate, large-grid black cage around it.

"I couldn't tell," Jazz purred back with a grin before his intakes caught from the soft pleasure. "Hate this thing," he whispered as he shivered from the gentle stroking, optics half-shuttered and dimmed. "Can't feel the carrier bond. Can't have you."

"It keeps us safe," Prowl countered gently. "We must be stronger before we challenge him directly."

"I know," Jazz moaned, arms shaking. "Don't mean I don't hate it." His right elbow buckled slightly as the touches continued to move inward, exploring every connection surrounding the blocker.

With a tender kiss, Prowl removed his hands and guided Jazz to his back. "It's safer if there's no chance of you falling into something," he instructed softly before returning his attention to exploring all the myriad of connections to Jazz's spark chamber.

"Feels good," Jazz whispered, arching up into the touch, gripping the berth tightly to keep his hands still. "Can you--deeper?" he asked, not even quite sure what he was asking for, just knowing that he wanted his lover's touch _inside_ him in a way that made him ache.

"Yes," Prowl purred. His fingers moved in, stroking the chamber's crystal through the holes in the cage to circle the center of the iris gentle. "Open for me, love. Let me feel your spark."

Jazz made a strangled noise and nodded, spiraling open after a barely-noticeable hesitation, looking right into Prowl's optics as the delicate covering moved away, gasping softly at the way the light shone and reflected off his lover's face. He reached up and touched Prowl's chest. "Love you," he whispered, caressing. "No one-- _aah_ ," he gasped at the next slow circle around the opening. "No one else will ever have this part of me," he finally managed.

"I treasure it, always," Prowl purred, leaning in to kiss his mate while his fingers played along the crystal they could reach. Only when he had explored the entire surface did he dip a finger into Jazz's chamber, giving the spark he adored a part of him to touch for the first time.

Jazz whined against Prowl's mouth, his entire frame giving a hard shudder at the new, _euphoric_ sensation. His internal charge skyrocketed in an instant and sent an all-consuming wash of static over his sensornet, making his optics flare white and unseeing. The sound came again, this time fuzzy and strained, as Prowl reached a second finger in and swirled through the light that was reaching and clinging to him, beyond ready to take this lover in.

"So beautiful, so perfect, so very perfect," Prowl's voice rolled over Jazz, adding to the bliss that was already beyond comprehending. He continued to rumble praise so Jazz could hear him, even knowing his lover was past understanding the actual words.

The tip into overload took only moments after that as the spark danced and flared out, the energy trying to rush up along Prowl's arm, stopped by the blocker and swirling there beneath the black crystal, crackling and sparking as Jazz's optics flickered out and his mouth opened in a silent scream. 

Then the energy started to fade, and as Jazz's vents hiccupped with the end of the overload, Prowl reluctantly withdrew his fingers. He watched, fascinated, as the leaders still clinging to him were forced to let go at the blocker's crystal and resettle back in with the spark, the iris spiraling shut behind them. 

Color gradually returned to Jazz's optics as fluffed out armor panted and tried to cool his core temperature back down in the wake of the intense surge that had rushed through them. It took him a few tries to reboot his vocalizer, and his voice was still thick with electrical interference. "Why haven't we been doing that this entire time?"

"Because you were carrying, love," Prowl leaned down to kiss him softly and moved his fingers out of the way of closing armor. "Protocols marked it as dangerous to the sparklings."

"Right," Jazz said, staring past Prowl at the ceiling, dazed. After a moment he pulled his lover down with him, moving awkwardly to lay on his side, needing to take a moment to figure out how to lay his doorwings to even make the motion possible. "Primus that's amazing." 

"It was pretty light," a small voice chirped, and the couple turned to see the twins peering around the doorway at them.

"Yes, that was your carrier's spark," Prowl responded with a gentle smile. "You should be recharging."

"But we're all done recharging," Sunstreaker explained while Sideswipe nodded next to him. "Now we want to move." 

Jazz nuzzled his mate and laughed softly. "How about cuddling instead?" he asked. "Your creators are tired." 

The pair mused the suggestion over, looking at each other while they did before remembering not to and looking away. 

"All right," Sideswipe said. "But only for a little while. Then moving."

"Come up here then," Prowl shifted to reach for them when they approached the berth. "I will play with you after your carrier is recharging."

They clamored happily up with Prowl's assistance and climbed over him to settle between their creators, curling happily up between them in the safety and warmth offered by the two adult frames. Jazz leaned over them and kissed his mate. "Thank you," he murmured, before laying his head down and smiling at his sparklings, watching Prowl stroke their heads as he drifted into recharge. 

* * *

Prowl's doorwings were twitching faintly as he waited outside the precinct building for his mate to arrive with their creations for their first real outing into the world. Their armor was on, though it was only thin sparkling armor, and the colors were beginning to develop. It made Prowl reluctant to go to work each morning and eager to return home, though he enjoyed his work with a passion that many in the precinct found amusing.

He'd managed to find work in the local Enforcers precinct by making a connection through Delta after her recommendation to a friend on his organizational skills, and had their records ever needing organizing. They'd just lost their chief archivist of nearly six centuries, and while he'd been able to understand the outdated record keeping systems, the new chief archivist had been having a fair amount of trouble with them, and the ensuing attempts to reformat had been comically disastrous. 

He spotted Jazz's alt form and waved as he pulled off the road next to the building, letting Sideswipe and Sunstreaker climb out before he transformed and greeted his mate with a kiss. "We're very curious today," he purred, looking down at the sparklings that were both holding their hands up at Prowl to be lifted. 

"No doubt," Prowl chuckled and knelt to pick up the twins, happy to hold them, especially with Jazz so close. "Are they ready to eat, or will it be treats?"

"Treats!" Sideswipe chirped, then looked at Jazz for conformation, who smiled and nodded, stroking the sparkling's back as Sunstreaker nuzzled up against Prowl's neck and tucked himself against his creator's collar. 

"They had their energon before we came," Jazz said. "Not far from here?" 

"Not far," Prowl promised as he showed them in. They stopped for a quick conversation with the front desk and Jazz had to listen to a short list of special rules that amounted to "stay close to your mate." He nodded and promised to behave and keep his sparklings under control and then they all had their visitor tags and were off into the employee-only portion of the precinct. Three turns later and they entered the cafeteria, each with a sparkling in hand.

"Have you eaten?" Prowl glanced at his mate.

"Not yet," Jazz said as he adjusted a squirming Sideswipe in his arms. "Got kind of busy." 

"We played hide and seek!" Sideswipe told Prowl cheerfully, to which Jazz rolled his optics and shook his head, looking strained. 

"You have to tell your creators before you play hide and seek," Jazz said, in a tone that said this was not the first time he'd said those words. 

"You enjoyed flustering him, didn't you?" Prowl hid his amusement well. He slid his ID card into a dispenser and drew two cubes.

There was a pause as the twins searched for the new glyph, integrated it, and then nodded at their sire with matching grins. Sunstreaker reached for the card as Prowl moved to put it in subspace. "I wanna try!" 

Jazz watched as Prowl let him put the card back into the slot and pull it out, grinning at the way the screen lit back up. "I think fluster is a kind word," he said as Prowl handed him one of the cubes and then cancelled the order screen Sunstreaker had called up. They headed for an empty table that had enough seats for Prowl's colleagues who were planning to join them.

"I'm sorry they're being difficult for you," Prowl said softly, earning something of an agreeing noise from Sunstreaker, though it wasn't much. The second to emerge was the less social but more emotional of the pair even at their young age.

"It isn't too bad," Jazz said, watching with a smile as his creations took in everything around them with wide, interested optics before looking back up at Prowl. "At least they recharge some of the time." 

Sideswipe tugged at his armor, pointing very obviously at a minibot who was heading their way, looking smaller than normal in a room full of adult Praxians. "What's he?" he asked in a very loud whisper. 

"That is a minibot frame," Prowl answered smoothly. "His designation is Windcharger. He's on search and rescue, but he often spends down time in the archives where I work."

Windcharger raised a hand in greeting as he reached the table, smiling brightly at them. "Finally got the crew in, huh?" he asked Prowl, waving his fingers at Sunstreaker, who watched him silently, clinging to Prowl's neck, while Jazz tried unsuccessfully to stop the squirming Sideswipe from jumping onto the table and peering up at him. 

"My carrier is bigger," Sunstreaker finally announced with a note of finality to his voice after he was done looking the minibot over, and nuzzled his face against Prowl.

"An optic for the obvious, I see," the minibot teased him in reply. "I bet your carrier can't do this, though," he raised his hand and focused, lifting Sideswipe off the table by a hand's span.

Sideswipe squeaked in surprise, all of his limbs flailing for a moment before he steadied himself and grinned hugely. Sunstreaker shot upright, optics wide and body quivering with tension, but Prowl's curled hand around him and a murmur of reassurance kept him still, and after a moment, when nothing bad happened, he settled back down. 

"Look!" Sideswipe said, waving at Jazz, who smiled back at him, before he looked up at Windcharger. "Go higher!"

"Only if your carrier agrees," the minibot looked directly at Jazz for permission.

An uncertain look flickered over Jazz's face for a moment as he was faced with the pleading look of his creation before he relaxed and nodded. "Just keep him above the table," he said, motioning a vertical line with his hand, and Windcharger nodded in agreement. 

" _Yes!_ " Sideswipe said, looking back at Windcharger eagerly. "Higher!" 

Windcharger chuckled and obliged the excited sparkling, moving him straight up until he was hanging midair higher than any of the mecha in the room would have been able to reach without climbing on the table. Sideswipe squirmed as he tried to look all around, and after a few moments, discovered that motions he made could direct his motion, and after a few failed tries, managed to flip around the static center that Windcharger was holding up. "Look!" he exclaimed, flipped again, and waved at Jazz. 

By then every mecha in the room was watching, and at the next flip, a portion of them broke out in applause that made the sparkling beam. 

"You are a showoff," Jazz teased his creation as Windcharger lowered him back down into his carrier's arms. 

"My turn," Sunstreaker demanded from Prowl's arms.

"He will not give up," Prowl said with soft humor and allowed Sunstreaker to climb onto the table. With and easy motion Windcharger lifted the sparkling up as he had his brother, giving the younger one the same time before delivering him to his creator. 

"They're adorable, and smart too," a Praxian in Enforcer black and white commented as he sat down. "I'm Longsight, chief archivist for the precinct," he offered a hand to Jazz. "Your mate has been a blessing from Primus. He's saved me vorns already."

Jazz accepted the hand, glancing at Prowl with a smile. "He tends to be a blessing from Primus wherever he goes," he said, and chuckled. "Primus knows he was for me." 

"I enjoy organizing," Prowl said with a shy duck of his doorwings. "And making Saxo happy."

"And you seem to be very good at both of those," Windcharger said as he nabbed a chair better suited to his height from several tables over and jumped up into it. "Those are very beautiful sparklings you two have, by the way," he said as he pulled a cube out from subspace. 

Sunstreaker perked at the compliment and preened for a moment to the indulgent chuckles of the watching adults. 

"He is good at both of those," Jazz agreed once the laughter died down. 

"You must be glad to be getting out again," Longsight said, settling down next to Windcharger. "Now that they're old enough." 

"I've been getting out," Jazz said. "Pantera watches them in the evenings so I can stretch my legs and get some peace." 

"From organizing files all day to sparkling sitting," Windcharger said, shaking his head. "No thank you." 

"It's not for everyone," Prowl agreed readily. "I enjoy it immensely. I would spend more time with them, but we need an income and I have more employable skills."

"Oh?" Longsight said, looking at Jazz. "What do you do? You never know, sometimes there are some pretty odd jobs with the Enforcers you'd never think of." 

"I dance," Jazz said smoothly, moving easily as Sideswipe climbed around on him, not even really needing to think anymore about shifting his arms for the sparkling. "I was quite good before my frame went. Most places don't operate at decent joors, though, and it isn't a good choice anymore. Not with these two and Pantera to think about now." 

Longsight hummed. "No, can't think of a position for that," he finally said with a laugh. "Unless you want to take up in the break rooms, the patrolling officers get pretty restless if they don't have crime to solve." 

"I think we will stick with Pantera working in your archives," Jazz said, noting with a bit of warmth the unhappy look his mate gave at the suggestion.

"When they're older the joors at a good club won't be as straining," Prowl added, mostly to Jazz. "By then I can probably shift my joors a bit to come in a little later so you can recharge enough." He glanced at Longsight.

"If you remain this good, I have no doubt such arrangements will be easy to make," the chief archivist agreed with a warm smile. "Just don't keep where he's dancing a secret. He'll never lack for an appreciative audience, or Enforcer protection."

Jazz bowed at the waist, practicing a pleased flutter of his doorwings as he did. "Thank you," he said, grinning. "Never danced anywhere with Enforcer protection, wouldn't that be novel? The last place had black market weapons deals practically on stage, doesn't attract the nicest clients." He hummed. "That would be nice though, I do miss it, and Pantera could spend more time with the hellions that way."

Prowl leaned against his mate in a remarkably affectionate public display as their doorwings overlapped and touched. "I'd enjoy watching you dance again as well, when the sparklings are old enough to stay at a friend's place for a few joors," his low tone was rich with desire. "You were so lovely on stage before your frame filled out for construction. I've missed that as well."

"You two are utterly adorable," a warm voice came from behind. "I never thought Pantera had so much emotion in him."

Jazz looked over his shoulder to see another Enforcer with patrol markings. He looked Praxian, but he was the biggest Praxian Jazz had ever seen. He guessed there was some kind of convoy or tank frame mixed in with that. 

"Sir!" the other Enforcers all said immediately, all of them making to stand before the mech gestured with his hands for them to settle down. Even Prowl reacted, though it was a bit slower than those who had markings.

"We're in the mess hall," he said, grimacing a little out of embarrassment. "I swear. I need to be able to walk _somewhere_ without everyone popping up all around me." He smiled at Jazz. "I'm Mortar, or, Captain Mortar, which is why these fools all insist on getting up. I heard there were sparklings down in my mess and I had to come see for myself. Hello," he rumbled as Sideswipe climbed up to peer at him over Jazz.

"Hello," Sideswipe replied brightly.

"You are the mech in charge," Sunstreaker considered the biggest mecha he'd ever seen. "Does size always equate to rank?"

Mortar gave him a startled look, them laughed from deep in his chassis. "Well I can certainly tell who _your_ carrier was," he said. "No, it does not always equate, though it happens frequently. Organizations that have rank are often battle trained, and the best fighters get to be in charge," he explained, sounding like he was trying to judge the complexity of his answer based on both the age and apparent intelligence of his tiny, rapt audience.

"So you weren't created to lead. You earned it." Sunstreaker said, trilling at the pride he felt in Prowl's field. Though it was a statement, it was a question too.

"Yes, I did," Mortar chuckled, sitting carefully next to Prowl, his knees too tall to fit under the table, leaving him to perch on the chair next to it. "Though it was nothing nearly as heroic or glorious as I'm sure you're imagining," he added.

"Time, effort and following the rules," Prowl supplied. "He worked hard to learn what was expected of him, and he performed those duties well. When leadership was needed, he displayed the ability to lead. Those are the leaders that should be respected. They have earned their rank."

"Oh," Sunstreaker said, still looking at Mortar, who smiled indulgently back at him. "But you are the best fighter too?" 

"Well, we do not have a way to determine the best fighter," Mortar said. "Different mecha are talent at different forms of battle." 

"Oh, come on, Cap," said a new voice, and they looked up to see a lithe, sauntering mech with a dark face and golden visor stroll up to the gathering. "Pretty sure you could scrap anyone here."

"Your team excluded," Motor regarded the newcomer steadily.

The visored mech chuckled. "I'm Radiance, chief of SWAT." He offered a hand to Jazz. "Your sparklings are beautiful, and very bright. They'll be sparkbreakers when they mature."

"Thank you," Jazz said, accepting the hand and the openly flirtatious look the mech gave him with a smile. Radiance grinned back and then turned the same look on Prowl. 

"News of sparklings will just bring everyone out of hiding," he explained his presence, then shifted his focus to Sideswipe, who was climbing his way over Jazz's chest to get closer. "Hello, aren't you just adorable. You know, I bet you could get into plenty of tiny places." 

"I can," Sideswipe said, nodding proudly at the interesting new mech, then pointed at his twin. "So can Sunny."

"Well, then," Radiance said, with an obvious wink at Jazz. "Perhaps I will comm the two of you the next time I need someone small to help me on an important mission. How does that sound?" 

"Awesome!" Sideswipe said, jumping off of Jazz onto the table. "What can we do?" 

"Oh, lots of things," Radiance said, very seriously. "You can get into tiny places and listen without anyone seeing you. But only if it is safe." 

"We are good at listening," Sideswipe said, then notice the look that Jazz gave him and modified, "Sometimes." 

"Excellent," Radiance said, and grinned brilliantly before looking up at Prowl. "Pantera, right? Sorry, I don't make it upstairs very often, and I'm not sure I even know were the archives are!"

Mortar grunted in obvious, exasperated agreement with that statement.

"Yes," Prowl smiled at SWAT's CO. "You do send me the most interesting of reports, however. It often feels like I know much of your unit, though I do not believe I have actually met any of them."

"I like to keep it that way," Radiance said with a small shrug, sitting down next to Jazz and holding his hand obligingly out for Sideswipe to examine as he greeted the others at the table. "Not taking anyone's seat, am I?" 

"No, you are welcome," Prowl said, backed up by the others. It was a pattern that continued as Prowl's lunch break continued. Mecha came by, drawn by the rumor that sparklings were visiting, or that Pantera's much-loved mate had finally showed his face. Some remained, others passed by, all of them cooed at the two metacycle old sparklings and said something nice to them, and often to their creators.

When Longsight got up, he told Prowl to take an extended break, that meeting the sparklings was too good for moral to cut short, and that he'd see Prowl in a couple joors.

By then all Prowl had to do was keep Sunstreaker from wandering too far and lean contentedly against Jazz's side while officers from all levels and divisions in the precinct came and went, every one of them leaving just a little more content, their step a little lighter for the interaction.

* * *

When Prowl got home after work a few metacycles after the lunch with his colleagues, he walked in to find Jazz sitting on the lounge they had finally gotten for their living room, watching the twins playing in the window seat that was still serving as their berth, frowning. He greeted Prowl with a lift of his fingers, not moving his gaze away from his creations.

::Love?:: Prowl opened a comm line to talk privately as he sat down next to Jazz and leaned against him to be close.

Jazz hummed quietly as he reached back for his love, grateful to have him home. ::Yes?::

::What's wrong?::

::Nothing is wrong,:: Jazz said, still watching the sparklings with the same frown. ::They're playing, I'm finally resting... Sideswipe is pretending like he can fly,:: he said, voice sounding odd as he pointed at the older twin, who was jumping with his arms out as Sunstreaker tried to tackle him. 

Prowl hummed and nuzzled him. ::You teek more unsettled than that.::

Jazz shifted uncomfortably. ::Probably tired. It was a long day, I took them down near the market to walk around. Have you ever...:: He trailed off, distracted by the spinning jump Sideswipe had just made that took him too close to the edge that left Sunstreaker grabbing for him and pulling him back. 

::They watch out for each other,:: Prowl nuzzled him, his processor having calculated that Sideswipe wasn't actually in danger. ::Have I ever ...?::

::Have you ever noticed how protective Sunstreaker is,:: Jazz said, then shook himself. ::You're right, he's just looking after his brother.::

"Creator, creator!" Sideswipe called, jumping for Prowl's attention. "Look, we saw a mech who could fly today but he stayed in place and didn't fall and he did like this!" He repeated the spinning, arms-out motion, landing better this time.

"I've seen them do so," Prowl smiled at the red twin. "Many flight-frames can hover."

"Will I get a flight frame?" Sideswipe asked, creeping for the edge and carefully lowering himself down and running over. "I liked when that minibot made me float."

"No, Sideswipe," Prowl said firmly as he lifted the sparkling up to the lounge. "You are a grounder as we are."

"But I want to fly!" Sideswipe said, reaching up for Prowl's neck as Jazz lifted Sunstreaker up and nuzzled him, optics dimmed.

"I'm sorry, but you won't have a flight frame," Prowl said firmly. It hurt to crush the sparkling's hopes, but better now than later.

Sideswipe drooped, looking at Prowl with huge optics, then sighed and curled against his sire's collar. "But I feel like I'm s'posed to," he pouted, then perked. "Maybe I can make friends with a flight frame and go with them," he said cheerfully.

"Yes, that is always a possibility." Prowl nuzzled him. "You might also be gifted as a pilot. It is something grounders with an instinctive knowledge of the air are often very good at."

"That sounds fun," Sideswipe chirped, then turned to his quiet, frowning twin, angled, and leapt, pouncing on him and pulling him off Jazz's lap and tumbling them both to the floor. "Come play pilot with me!" he demanded, tugging Sunstreaker's arm, leading him back to the window seat. 

Jazz watched them, an odd look on his face, then relaxed and smiled as Prowl reached up to rub the back of his neck. "I don't think I was ever as much of a handful as these two are," he chuckled, watching them run around.

"Oh, you very much were," Prowl chuckled. "Your spark has always been bright and full of life. You were quite the delightful terror."

Jazz grinned, leaning against his mate. "Name _one_ time I was a terror," he teased.

"The first time you found the cybercat's den and hid," Prowl suggested. "You had the entire estate in an absolute panic for joors before I realized the cats were acting strange. Or the time you slid the grand stairwell banister and got all scuffed up. It was your worst injury as a sparkling."

Jazz was quiet for a moment, then sat up and frowned at Prowl. "When did I hide in the cybercat's den? I don't remember that at all." 

"You were sixteen and a half vorns old," Prowl offered, already cueing what he had of the event in his memory to share, suspecting that Vortex had removed it.

Jazz searched for another klik or so before he shook his head and leaned back against him. "Must have been in the group that got shredded," he sighed. "Which means you were an important part of it." 

"I found you and coaxed you out," Prowl said, surprised that he was central to the memory on Jazz's part.

Jazz tried to bring anything up from the incident, couldn't, and shook his head, then growled softly. "Fragging glitch," he hissed, not noticing the way the twins both stopped playing immediately and froze, staring at him from across the room. "That makes two dozen and who knows how many more." 

"He didn't take _you_ ," Prowl caught his lover's far cheek with the palm of his hand and drew him into a kiss. "You saved what was most important," he reminded them both with his forehelm against Jazz's. "Moments come and go. We survive."

Jazz sighed and nodded, fingers brushing over Prowl's dataport. "Show me your version?" he asked, then looked down when he felt hands tugging at his leg. 

"Carrier?" Sideswipe asked, while Sunstreaker lifted his arms up. "You sounded scary." 

"You scared us," Sunstreaker said as Jazz helped them both up. 

"I'm sorry," Jazz said, nuzzling the both of them. "I didn't mean to." 

"You can make him feel better right?" Sunstreaker asked Prowl, crawling over to him. 

"I can do some to help. The rest will take time to heal," Prowl explained as gently as he could to the rich yellow sparkling in his lap even as he plugged into his mate and offered the ready-queued memory. "Some hurts, emotional hurts, can take a long time to recover from."

"Oh," Sunstreaker said quietly, and looked back at Jazz, whose optics dimmed as he watched Prowl's version of the memory. The sparklings sat still and silent, sensing that interruptions or questions would not be welcomed right now. 

~You were so worried,~ Jazz said, watching through Prowl's optics as the seneschal went through every corner of the estate, calling upon security systems, the entire network of servants, and physically opening and looking into every storage cupboard himself, even if it had already been searched. 

~I was terrified you had been taken,~ Prowl murmured, and here, with the hardline, it was clear that the terror was not at failing to protect Jazz as his duty, though that was strong, but that he had failed to protect the spark he already cared far too deeply for. ~Or lost somewhere where you could not escape and would starve. You'd never hidden from us before.~

~I wonder why I did,~ Jazz hummed, then smiled when Prowl finally found the small, white sparkling curled up in the cybercat's den, who was huddled in the back, not wanting to come out because he was afraid of getting in trouble. Prowl coaxed and promised that he wouldn't, and as soon as he said that, Jazz immediately crawled out and jumped into his arms, chattering happily about his adventure before he stopped, teeked, and looked at Prowl with wide, confused optics. 

~You were so young, I'm sure you didn't realize how we'd take it,~ Prowl nuzzled him gently. ~As I said, it was the first time we couldn't find you within a few kliks. Just how you greeted me said that you weren't _trying_ to hide from us.~

While Jazz's memory may have ended shortly after Prowl had found him, Prowl's memory of the event stretched on, including the beating and restricted rations he received and how he'd pleaded Jazz's case anyway, reminding the Lords of the sparkling's youth and reaction to being found.

~Oh, Prowl,~ Jazz whispered, nuzzling his lover. ~I'm so sorry. I don't remember being punished for that, they must have listened to you.~

~You weren't,~ Prowl murmured. ~What I was punished for was not knowing where you were, not my word in your defense. The security of the estate increased significantly after that. You could hide, but not from me.~

Jazz drew his mate into a deep kiss. ~And here I always thought I was being very sneaky and clever when I was trying to get away from you and my carrier.~

Prowl laughed into the kiss before he finally pulled away, optics glittering in good humor. ~Oh, you were good, my little pit demon, you still are. I am simply better at keeping track than you are at hiding.~

Jazz purred. ~I will have to see if I can fix that,~ he said. ~I've gotten plenty good at other things in the meantime.~

The twins started squirming, teeking their creators' lightened moods, looking up at them with bright, eager optics. "Play with us?" Sideswipe asked, while Sunstreaker nodded eagerly.

Prowl grinned down at them and unplugged from his lover. "What would you like to play?"

"Memory!" Sunstreaker chirped.

"All right," Jazz said with a smile, lifting Sideswipe as he stood, carrying the sparkling with him as he went to retrieve the game while Prowl settled behind the excitedly trilling Sunstreaker on the floor. 

They were already showing a love of processor games, something that made it impossible for Prowl to hide his pride in the pair, not that he ever tried to. Jazz brought the game back, set it up, then cuddled next to his mate as they watched their creations play together, turning and matching the tiles, chattering to each other and their carriers, and enjoying the time together. 


	21. Breaking Down

Prowl accepted being the center of attention as he walked into the precinct with both sparklings in tow and on their best manners. Word had gotten around that he was going to do so, but it still earned him a few sympathetic looks as he guided his creations towards the archives deep inside the building.

"Why didn't Carrier come with us?" Sideswipe asked in a loud whisper from where he was perched on Prowl's shoulder, holding onto his neck. 

"He's looking for work today," Prowl said gently. "I think he needs a bit of a break. He is quite young."

"A break from us?" Sunstreaker asked, looking up at Prowl. 

"From the responsibility of caring for you," Prowl gentled the truth without denying it. "It's more stressful for him than either of us anticipated."

"Are we in trouble?" Sideswipe asked, and Prowl could just _feel_ the sparkling drooping. 

"No, little one," Prowl stopped and trilled gently. He knelt so he could be optic level with both of them. "You are not in trouble. You are with me because I love all three of you dearly. We could have gotten someone else to watch you, but we don't want that."

They nodded in unison and Sunstreaker jumped up to wrap his arms around Prowl's neck. "We would rather be with you, too," he said, nuzzling him. 

"Yes," Sideswipe chirped. "And if we are here with you, Carrier will be happier when we get home?" 

"I hope so," Prowl nuzzled them both. "Even if he's not, _I_ will get to enjoy some more time with you," he smiled, his field warm and honest as he stood to guide them into the lift that would take them to the archives where he worked.

"Can we help you work?" Sunstreaker asked as the lift opened, following Prowl out, having to take three steps for every one of Prowl's, even as slowed down as they were. 

"Yes," Prowl smiled. "I also brought some games for you, and blankets for a nap."

"I expect more visitors today than I usually see in a vorn," Longsight chuckled from the primary workstation. "It'll be nice to have sparklings around again. I miss mine."

Sideswipe ran over to the chief archivist and tried to climb up on his chair. "Where did they go?" he asked as Longsight helped him up into his lap, completely at ease with the mech he'd only met once before. 

"They grew up and moved out to have their own lives and families," Longsight told him easily as he noted Prowl settling down to work at his typical lightning fast pace with a rapt Sunstreaker as audience, though not without the occasional sideways glance at his brother. "Creations don't stay at home forever."

"But I don't want to not live with my creators," Sideswipe said, and there was an answering hum of agreement from Sunstreaker. 

"It will be a long time before that happens," Longsight assured him. "And you might be more ready than you think by the time it happens." 

"You have centuries before that's even an option," Prowl added quietly. He could easily do his job and keep tabs on the conversation. "Much will change in that time. Though I hope you will remain fond of us no matter where you are."

"Of course we will," Sunstreaker said, nuzzling his creator, happily curled up against his plating and watching the screens. 

A few kliks passed by in silence while the sparklings watched the adults work, before Sideswipe chirped, "I'm bored."

"What would you like to play?" Prowl asked easily with a look towards the red sparkling.

"Toss!" Sideswipe said, climbing up on Longsight's shoulder and looking eagerly at Prowl.

"It must be a game that does not require my hands," Prowl corrected his offer.

Sideswipe pouted for a moment, getting himself a chuckle from Longsight as he teeked the sparkling's sulking field, then reconsidered. "Do you have the racing game?" he asked.

"Of course," Prowl took it from subspace and offered it to the red sparkling.

The next six joors went much like that, the pair occasionally asking for another game, or getting a snack, or asking questions or chasing each other around and climbing on the stacks of datapads and evidence stored in the archive. It was nearly lunch when Prowl suddenly lurched from his chair and all but flung himself halfway across the room to catch a falling Sideswipe before he was damaged by the floor.

It left Prowl on his back, clutching the red sparkling tightly and fighting the dizzying sensation of scraped doorwings.

Longsight spun in his chair, startled from his work, and stared, then looked up to see what Sideswipe could have possibly launched himself from and saw a timid Sunstreaker peeking down from behind some boxes on the top shelf. "Good catch," he said dryly. 

Sideswipe squirmed. "You're holding too tight!" he complained, completely unfazed by the fall or how close he'd come to being damaged, if he even realized at all.

"You scared me," Prowl countered as he forced himself to let go of the squirming sparkling. "You could have been badly damaged."

"How?" Sideswipe asked, sitting on Prowl's chest.

"A fall from several times your height will damage you," Prowl explained, not trying to get up.

Sunstreaker finished climbing the rest of the way down the structure of the shelving that Sideswipe had launched himself from, presumably trying to reach the lighting fixture in the middle of the ceiling and ran over, climbed up on Prowl's chest, and started running his hands all over Sideswipe's armor, checking for injury himself, scowling. 

Sideswipe mostly ignored him, looking up at the height he'd jumped from. "How badly damaged from that distance?"

"Badly enough for an emergency run to the hospital, and likely you'd have to stay there for a while," Prowl told him, not yet protesting his position.

"So from half that height...?" the sparkling asked tentatively, and Prowl could just about hear his processors running through developing risk protocols as they received the hypothetical data. 

"Relative to your current height, you could be badly damaged," Prowl told him.

"How high can I jump from and not be damaged?" Sideswipe asked as Sunstreaker settled next to him, also curious to know. 

Prowl had to pause to answer that. The calculations were all but instant, but translating them to something his very young sparkling could understand took a bit more doing. Sideswipe wasn't yet at the point where giving him the formulas and variables would do much good.

"In your current frame, you can jump from twice your height with minimal risk. Three times if you can be sure of landing on your pedes. Four with a soft landing. Past that you risk too much damage."

Both sparklings nodded as he spoke, processing and carefully not looking at each other though Prowl was sure they were talking. 

"Don't tell them that," Longsight chuckled, having turned around by now to watch, and caught their attention. "You want to know how high you can jump from?" he asked, and they both nodded. 

Longsight stood and held his arm straight up, hand flat. "Do this." 

With a dubious glance at each other, they obeyed. 

"That is how high you can jump from," Longsight told them. 

He got matching scowls in return. "That is less than what Carrier told us," Sunstreaker said as Sideswipe nodded in agreement.

Prowl, too, was looking at the older and much more experienced creator curiously.

"That is because your creator thinks that you will use good sense when you are playing," Longsight told them, and stood to help Prowl up to his pedes by shooing the sparklings off his chest. "But I know that you will find the very most you are told is safe and go just a _little_ more than that. So the rule is, no matter how tall you are, your hand is as high as you can jump from." 

"We jump from our berth all the time and it is taller than that," Sideswipe informed him. 

Longsight chuckled. "It isn't a perfect rule. Just meant to keep adventurous sparklings safe and creators' lives easier." 

"I like Carrier's rule better," Sunstreaker said. 

"Longsight's makes more sense," Prowl decided. "It is the standing rule. Do not jump from any higher than your shoulder."

He was immediately faced with all the indignant devastation that two sparklings' faces could manage. 

"You may use the more complicated risk assessment formula I use when your processors are mature enough to utilize it," Prowl gave a little.

The twins glanced at each other for a split moment, then smiled with perfect obedient innocence up at him. "Yes, Carrier," Sunstreaker said, while Sideswipe tugged at his arm, eager to keep playing, since the new rule didn't seem to affect allowed climbing height. 

Longsight smiled at them, then looked back at Prowl and gave a sheepish grin. "Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to ruin sparkling days. That was my carrier's rule and it didn't keep any of mine out of the air for long, but it works for a little while." 

"I don't mind," Prowl said as he watched the pair climb. "I don't expect it'll work on them long either. Did yours have an airframe creator?"

Longsight gave him a startled look. "Yes," he said. "Does Sunstreaker?"

"Sideswipe," Prowl said. "Though I don't know what kind. This isn't his first time trying to fly."

Longsight hummed as he looked up at the pair. "Spark influence from the sire," he said. "My last had it the worst, stuck in a grounder frame and always wanting to be in the air." He chuckled to himself. "Thankfully by then we had stopped being worried about every leap they took. Primus, if he'd been the first, he would have been the last."

"How did he adapt, if he has?" Prowl asked with keen interest for anything that might help his creation be happy as they went back to their workstations.

Longsight made a sound that was caught halfway between amusement and exasperation. "Took up with a shuttle, of all things. D'you have any idea how hard it is to host for a shuttle? They're huge!" He paused, sighed, and then there was a smile in his voice. "Makes him happy, though."

"It's all I really want for them," Prowl glanced at the climbing sparklings. "If they're happy, the rest can be dealt with."

* * *

It felt _so good_ to move again, Jazz thought as he spun around his dance partner, barely paying attention to him, the music, or the audience. It had taken some time to get used to the doorwings, but once he'd integrated them into the motion scripts, dancing had become easy and carefree and _freeing_. All he wanted to focus on was the feeling of his frame dipping and winding in time with the low, thrumming beat, and what it meant to be doing something he _loved_.

Instead of...

He shook his head sharply, refocusing. He loved his twins. Their twins. More than anything, but he just couldn't deny how much better he felt now that he was spending more time away from them.

It was because he was tired, he assured himself. He was tired and dancing and the crowd and the way it felt to be _looked_ at energized him. And Prowl loved spending time with their creations, it was a better situation for everybody. 

There had been some orns when he hadn't thought he could continue much longer. Apparently he wasn't as made out to be a creator as he'd always been led to believe. Some bit of coding hadn't gotten passed on correctly, perhaps, but a little time away from home on his own, bringing in income and loving what he was doing was going to fix that. He was going to love his twins and watch them grow and spend the rest of his life with Prowl.

The song ended and Jazz carefully righted his partner, who he'd dipped back, and bowed to the crowd. It was a small club, with a fee to even get inside, and it was respectable and clean and he was making a good income for what he was doing. And true to Mortar's word, there were always Enforcers around or near the building when he was on shift. He, like Engineer had, protected his own, and that included those important to them. 

And tonight, on top of that, Radiance was sitting in the audience, watching him with that glittering gold visor, dark face tipped invitingly up and a small predatory smile on his lips.

Jazz was able to ignore it--mostly, the mech was a looker--until he finished with his set and walked backstage to slip out the side exit and into the audience, going over to the SWAT commander's table and sliding into the empty chair. 

"So you're my sparkling sitter for the night, hm?" Jazz teased.

"I doubt you need much protecting," Radiance grinned at him and waved for another drink. "Not with the way you move. I thought so before, but now I'm sure you've had some good, practical combat training. Though you did learn to dance first."

"You can tell that?" Jazz asked, grinning back, relaxing in his seat and turning to look up at the dancers still on stage. "I guess that shouldn't surprise me."

"My survival does require I can judge a fight well," Radiance chuckled as the drink was delivered and he slid it over to Jazz. "Your mate's better than you, I expect, though not by much."

Jazz nodded once, lifting the cube up for a deep swallow, sighing contentedly as he immediately felt the high grade start to buzz through his systems. "He's been practicing longer," he said, leaning back and shuttering his optics.

"Are you still practicing?" Radiance asked. An innocent question that could imply so much that was not innocent.

"With Pantera, when we can," Jazz said, then smiled sardonically. "When we're not too tired."

"Which is not often, I expect," Radiance chuckled deeply. "Sparklings are their own workout. Enjoying the escape?"

"So much," Jazz admitted. "And I know Pantera is enjoying to spend more time with them." 

"It sounds like a good arrangement then," Radiance smiled at him, relaxed and enjoying the show. "Is this what you want to do, when they're old enough for you to work full-time again?"

Jazz shrugged a little. "Probably. Comes naturally, I enjoy it... I really don't know what else I'd do, I can't say I have any real useful skills." 

"Really?" Radiance's surprise was genuine. "Disowned, then?" he asked gently.

Jazz flashed a grin at him. "There is a fine line between being disowned and running away before they get a chance to kick you out." 

"Order of paperwork versus leaving," the SWAT commander nodded. "I'm sure you could learn any number of occupations. As Pantera has said, you're young. A couple centuries for the sparklings to grow up, and you'll be able to do most anything that appeals to you for a function."

"Likely so," Jazz hummed, watching the dancers. "I saw some acrobat performers once, it might take centuries to get as good as they were but it looked amazing." 

"I've watched a few shows, they're impressive," Radiance readily admitted to the truth. "I'm good, but even I was left stunned at some of the moves. It really is amazing to witness what ground-frames are capable of with training and some mods."

"You have any mods like that?" Jazz asked, glancing over. "How do they work?"

"I don't know all the mods they use, though I'm sure mag systems are a major one," Radiance shrugged and lifted a hand. Jazz suddenly felt a strong pull towards it. "I have mag generators in my hands and pedes. Got them as part of SWAT upgrades so I can climb buildings without equipment. They're useful for disarming mecha too," he grinned devilishly.

Jazz grinned back. "I'll bet you're good at disarming in more than once sense." 

"I do have a reputation for it," Radiance purred, teasing and flirtatious, but not serious. Oh, he'd take this pretty creature to his berth if invited, but he wasn't about to try. "You know you could have any mecha here, if you wanted."

"And I'll bet you could tell me how they all are before I even got to them," Jazz teased, raising his glass to the visored mech before tilting his head back to swallow what remained. "Have anything besides the mag systems?" 

"Nothing else quite as versatile," Radiance grinned, not denying or confirming the statement of his range of experience. "Sensors, armor, reflexes. Useful on the job. Not nearly as entertaining off it."

"Stick with the mag systems for a pick-up," Jazz agreed. "Much more exotic sounding."

"They're _very_ useful in the berth too," Radiance purred. "Especially if your lover is all tense." 

Jazz grinned, set his empty cube aside to be picked up, and didn't comment to that. "How'd you get into SWAT?"

"I was aiming for SWAT since I was a mechling," the CO said. "I went to the academy, graduated with good scores, went on patrol and was a good Enforcer. I showed myself to be a level processor under fire and a leader. I made a point of learning new weapons, spending extra time on the range, extra time in classes from engineering to psychology, and having that in my records. Eventually I was invited in and the real training began."

"And you did well, apparently," Jazz said, looking him up and down without bothering to hide his enjoyment of the dark frame. "What about this?" he asked, leaning over and brushing the side of Radiance's face where the visor seemed to hook in. "Is this SWAT, too?"

"This one is, but I've always liked wearing one. Two of my creators had them."

Jazz hummed. "It looks good on you," he said. "It replaces the optic systems? Enhances them?"

"One of my creators had it as a replacement, but most are either decorative or enhancements," Radiance said easily, signaling for another round for them both. "This one's an enhancement," he added as it lifted to reveal matching yellow optics.

"Very pretty," Jazz purred, then chuckled. "I'd say you shouldn't hide them, but then you wouldn't have the visor, and that would be a shame."

"It definitely would be," Radiance agreed as the visor slid back down and their cubes arrived. "You'd look rather dashing with a visor you know."

"You think?" Jazz asked, nodding in thanks to the server as he accepted his. "Maybe someday if I ever get the mods for acrobatics." 

"Yes, especially as a dancer. A mirrored visor would add a bit of mystery to your routine," he actually trilled in appreciation of the mental image. "They aren't expensive if it's only decorative. But then, I'm partial to them," he tapped his own.

"I'll keep that in mind," Jazz purred with an appreciative trill of his own as he settled back to return his gaze towards the dancers.

"So other than stressed out trying to care for two young sparklings, how are things with you and Pantera?" Radiance asked politely, though he really did want to know.

Jazz glanced at him. "If you're asking because I'm flirting with you, you should know the only thing keeping me from asking you into our berth is the sparklings." He smiled. "Things are good, things are perfect, he's perfect."

Radiance grinned and sipped his drink. "Nice to know, though I was asking because trouble at home ends up being trouble at work. There is support if you need it. Young creators, a new couple with two new sparklings ... well, we're kinda expecting trouble of the kind that can he headed off."

Jazz nodded. "Pantera and I are fine. I'm just..." He paused, searching for the right words. "A little overwhelmed by the pair, they energize each other. This is helping." 

"Good," Radiance reached out and squeezed Jazz's shoulder. "Just remember that you aren't in this alone anymore. There are plenty of mecha who would be delighted to look after the pair for a while so you can have time with your mate."

Jazz's gaze flickered for a moment. "Maybe," he said. "Neither of us is fond of the idea of them being with anyone else... maybe that will relax in time." He took another sip of high grade and glanced at his chronometer. "I should head home as soon as I finish this."

"They're less than a vorn old, Saxo," Radiance said gently. "Totally normal to be hyper-protective, and to be worn out. Are you sure you're good to drive?"

"I'm good," Jazz said, and let his engines purr. "Though if I'm ever not, I promise I will let the gorgeous Enforcer know so he can escort me home safely." 

"Maybe I'll just tail you home anyway, just to watch that pretty aft a bit longer," Radiance flirted back, teasing. He paused for a moment, visor glittering mischievously. "Do you ever dance just for Pantera?"

"As often as I can and whenever he asks me," Jazz grinned, and let his voice slip down in pitch. "Though they wouldn't allow the kind of dancing I do for him in here."

"I bet you don't get to finish a dance very often," Radiance's engine rumbled deeply. "Ever tied him to the berth so he has to watch all the way through?"

"Nah," Jazz said. "He stays when he's told. I'm usually the one who can't get all the way through a dance." He finished his drink and stood, tilting his head curiously at the other mech. "Gonna stay and watch or tail me?"

"Mmm, I think I'm going to enjoy my door fee in full," Radiance grinned at him. "I'm sure you know your way home."

Jazz smiled and dipped his head in agreement. "And I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself," he purred, waved in farewell, and wove his way through the audience to head back. 

He was expecting to find Prowl still getting the sparklings ready for their nightly recharge, and was pleasantly surprised to open the door and see all three of them on their lounge, the twins curled in Prowl's lap as he read to them, voice low and smooth. They lifted their heads at the sound of the door opening and Prowl paused and helped them down so they could run over to greet Jazz. He knelt down and scooped the two up into a tight hug against his chest, feeling a strange mix of unsettled and joyful to have them in his arms. "Hello, my loves," he murmured, nuzzling them.

They nuzzled back, and then when Jazz didn't let go, started squirming. "Carrier!" Sideswipe protested. 

Jazz startled and immediately let them go, and they ran back to Prowl, who helped them back into his lap. Jazz followed and leaned over to kiss his mate in welcome. That welcome was far warmer, and included a hand around the back of his helm to extend the kiss far longer than a simple greeting as Prowl's engine gave a rev of welcome.

Jazz's purred in response as he shifted and settled himself down next to his mate and leaned against him. "What are you reading tonight?" he asked.

"Primus and Unicron," Sunstreaker said, and looked expectantly up at Prowl.

"They were never this good for me," Jazz asked with a soft smile.

Sunstreaker looked up at him. "Pantera makes us behave."

"It's a skill," Prowl said gently with another soft kiss.

Jazz hummed. "One I am very glad you have, among others." He looked down when Sideswipe poked at him and the sparkling held his hand up to indicate that silence was desired, then turned back to the datapad that Prowl was holding. Jazz raised an optic ridge and looked at his mate, amused.

Prowl simply chuckled before he resumed the story of the creation of Cybertron from Primus's chassis and how Unicron was banished to the far side of the universe when he lost the battle that cost Primus so much. It was a story Jazz was long familiar with, though it occurred to him that if Prowl had been the one to tell him he would have paid better attention. He certainly was now. 

When the legend was completed, Prowl turned off the datapad. "It is time for recharge."

And to Jazz's amazement, the pair only pouted at Prowl for a moment, and when his mate simply looked back, they sighed, hugged both of them, and got up to climb into their berth themselves. 

Jazz stared. ::If I hadn't just seen that myself, I would never believe it.::

::Discipline is a skill, love,:: Prowl kissed him softly before standing and drawing Jazz against him. ::How was work?::

::One I apparently do not have,:: Jazz said ruefully. ::I tell them time for recharge and they ask for one more game and somehow I get drawn into it with absolutely no memory of how. Work was wonderful. And Radiance was watching today. He is a vision,:: Jazz purred. 

::You didn't have enough time as a youngster yourself,:: Prowl held him close. ::I'll try to show you how to control them. Mostly it's that trick of not getting drawn into the game or story, and careful application of ignoring them. Radiance was a vision, now? Should I be concerned that I'm no longer satisfactory in the berth?:: he teased.

::All _you_ need to be concerned with is making sure your equipment doesn't wear out with how often I want to enjoy your satisfaction,:: Jazz said, pressing their helms together. ::Please, _please_ tell me you are in a mood that I can spike you senseless.:: 

"Oh, most definitely," Prowl's high engine rev added confirmation as he drew Jazz into their berthroom. "Any and every way you want me. Just tell me what would please you the most."

Jazz pushed him towards the berth as soon as they were through the door, engines rumbling deeply. "You, on your back, spread so shamelessly wide it would make a pleasurebot blush," he purred in a low voice, optics darkening.

Prowl moaned at the words and complied as he laid down and spread his legs apart. His valve cover slid open and he slid his arms up over his helm. "Take me, fill me, use me for your pleasure, my love," he purred, arching his frame seductively as he looked with arousal brightened optics and heated desire as his valve began to lubricate.

"Always," Jazz moaned as he climbed over him and sank in, shuddering from the burst of _hot-tight-movement_ that flooded over his sensor net. "Always, my love."


	22. Race Day

"So _fast!_ " Sunstreaker trilled, squirming in Prowl's arms as they entered the local racetrack. Jazz was having just as much trouble keeping Sideswipe in check.

"Settle down or we won't be able to get closer," Prowl warned them.

They settled, _barely_ , but Jazz could feel Sideswipe _quivering_ against him as the racers came around the curve and shot by. "Please can we get closer," the sparkling said, voice and field ringing with excitement. 

Jazz felt like squirming himself. Sideswipe felt odd in his arms and against his plating, and he wasn't sure if it was the crowds or just having them at a moderately sized public event for the first time, but he was uncomfortable and really wished he wasn't holding his creation so close. "Yes, we can get closer," he answered, looking around.

"Follow," Prowl said simply as he began weaving his way through the crowds, angling away from the trackside towards the seating above. The energy was a little more controlled up here for the creators, but the view of the entire track satisfied the sparklings.

They were still quivering with excitement, if that was any indication. 

"When can we go like that?" Sunstreaker asks, optics wide and bright.

"You can not race here until your adult frame," Prowl said firmly. "Once you are in your mechling frame you will have an alt mode and can race on the mechling tracks."

"But that's in _forever_ ," Sideswipe sighed, but perked as soon as the racers came back around again. "Look at that one!" he said, pointing at the flashy, red and gold colored leader. "That's him, right?" he asked, meaning the relatively well-known local racing celebrity who was the reason for much of the crowd. 

"Yes," Jazz said. "That's Comet." 

"Can we meet him? I want to see what he looks like in root mode!"

"We can try," Prowl said, his tone dubious. "If you wish to see what he looks like, watching from up here is much more likely to produce a good result. Closer is not always better."

The twins looked at each other, apparently trying to decide if that was the truth or a way to make them feel better about not getting to see him, then nodded once. 

"All right," Sunstreaker said, and Sideswipe cuddled up against Jazz's chest, trilling in contentment as the race went on.

"After the race, we can visit the sparkling center. They have a track and little vehicles to race with," Prowl suggested. "You can meet a few others your age and socialize."

"That sounds fun," Sideswipe said eagerly, then looked up and gave a sharp, excited chirp, pointing at the Aerial unit that was flying overhead, suddenly squirming so badly that Jazz very nearly lost his grip and had to lunge forward to catch the jumping sparkling. "Look look look!" he trilled, and turned to Prowl, optics wide and bright with excitement, before looking at Jazz, and then faltered when he saw the unfamiliar look on his carrier's face and looked back at Prowl, uncertain.

Prowl's optics were focused on his mate. ::Saxo?::

Jazz physically jerked, tore his gaze away from Sideswipe and shook his head, frowning. "Sorry," he murmured, and shifted uncomfortably. "Why don't you go sit with Sunstreaker?"

Sideswipe nodded and scurried away from his carrier to his brother where they both pressed close to their sire. It only lasted a moment before the race captured their attention again.

::What's wrong?:: Prowl asked, genuinely concerned.

Jazz frowned, because there was little point in replying "nothing" because Prowl wouldn't believe him. He shifted again, trying to focus on the racers. ::Just--felt weird, felt fuzzy. And like he wasn't--I don't know. I just--I wish he would stop pointing at every Aerial he sees!:: he hissed, and got a startled look from both sparklings as his field spiked out aggressively. 

Prowl's field wrapped around his creations protectively, shielding them from Jazz. He didn't even realize he'd physically put himself, his wings, between them as well until the unease of a few mecha around them made him check his posture.

::They are nothing like _him_.:: Prowl said firmly, insisting with everything he was as he forced himself to straighten and settle his wing language. ::Mecha have to be taught to be evil. They will not be taught.::

Jazz winced when he realized his mate had been shielding their sparklings from _him_. ::I know that,:: he said, forcing his field to smooth, forcing his emotions to level, and sighed. ::I know that. I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me.:: He lifted his hand up to his helm, touching, shaking his head once more. 

Prowl reached out with one hand, the other arm lightly corralling the sparklings in his lap. ::We will talk about this more by hardline, when we've put them down for a nap. We'll make things work out.:: His field reached out to caress Jazz with love and care.

Jazz pressed back gratefully, then focused on the twins. Sunstreaker had his arms around Sideswipe as well and they were watching the race together, very carefully looking like that was all they were doing. 

Jazz's spark _throbbed_ in his chest. "Sides?" he trilled gently.

Both sparklings looked at him, but Sunstreaker's expression was a defiant, protective glare.

"Carrier," Sideswipe responded, wanting things to be okay and terrified they wouldn't be despite his brother and sire.

"I'm sorry," Jazz said quietly, and held his hand out just short of his sparkling, field perfectly calm and soothing. "I didn't mean to startle you, dear spark, you did nothing wrong. I'd like it if you would sit with me, but only if you want to?"

Sideswipe smiled brightly and scrambled out of Prowl's lap despite Sunstreaker's hissing efforts to restrain him. Prowl's field washed over them both with approval and thanks.

Jazz trilled to his tiny, chirping bundle of sparkling and held him close, nuzzling his neck and tickling gently, making Sideswipe trill and squirm, laughing, easily and eagerly letting himself be enveloped by his carrier's arms as they settled in to watch the rest of the races.

Once the main races had ended and Comet left the track, smaller local racing began again, but by then the twins were getting restless with sitting still. There was only so much watching other mecha go fast while they were barely permitted to squirm that they could handle, and Prowl tactfully mentioned a play area for sparklings that the track kept up, for mecha to leave their creations in another's care. 

Prowl and Jazz were not about to leave their creations there, but creators were more than welcome to stay, socialize, watch, and play, and it would be a good chance for the twins to meet some age-mates and do some socializing of their own. It wouldn't be bad for Jazz and Prowl to meet and interact with the creators of the twins' likely classmates when they were older, either.

There were about a half dozen other sparklings running around on the play equipment and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker barely made it to the gates before leaping out of their creators' arms and dashing off to join them. 

"Not afraid of anything," Jazz said with a hint of a smile, watching them. 

"They're far too young to understand what being hurt means," Prowl smiled indulgently and guided Jazz to a bench seat near the edge where they could watch without hovering. It was the furthest they'd allowed the pair to wander and they both knew all too soon they would be required to leave them alone with strangers.

"Twins?" a light tenor asked, drawing their attention to a bright orange and red mechling with a ready grin and bright energy.

"Oh, no," Jazz laughed, and leaned against Prowl, twining their fingers together. "They certainly like to think they are, though. We met when we were both already carrying," he explained, and nuzzled his mate. 

The youth scowled, his field agitated and distressed, surprising them both until he spoke. "How could a mate leave with a creation on the way? Doesn't it take effort and intent to make that happen?"

"Most of the time, yes," Prowl's field reached out to sooth him softly. "But occasionally a newspark can be generated without intent. Or with unconscious desire by one. It happens too often these orns, but we were lucky," he nuzzled Jazz and kissed at his neck cabling until he got a shiver and soft moan. "We each found a real mate when the spark sires proved unworthy."

Jazz purred back at him, a look on his face that said Prowl was going to pay for the teasing kisses later. "Now it's just a matter of who wins the argument of who carries next," he told the youth with a grin. "I'm Saxo, this is Pantera." 

"Peca," the youth grinned at him and offered a hand to shake. "I'm watching my cousin," he motioned towards the group without being clear which one he was connected to. "Praxus is nice, but I'm looking forward to going home again."

Jazz smiled at him as he and Prowl settled in to watch, neither of them ever fully taking their attention off their sparklings, who were so far playing on their own, obviously loving the lack of close supervision as they climbed around on the equipment. "Where's home?" he asked politely. 

"Iacon," Pica leaned against the wall. "Creators had some job that they'd be working on like thirty-six joors an orn and didn't think I should have a metacycle unsupervised." He huffed. "The race tracks here are awesome though. There's hardly anything in Iacon that lets mechlings race. I'll miss that. Do you race, or just watch?"

"We just watch," Jazz answered, Prowl being mostly focused on the twins. Jazz looked back from Pica just in time to see Sideswipe jumping off a platform that was easily twice his current height. "I'm pretty sure that shatters the shoulder rule," he murmured, amused, curious to see what Prowl was going to do about it. 

"Sideswipe," Prowl's voice was even, calm, but decidedly commanding. It brought the red sparkling to him with only a half-sparked effort to look too cute to punish. Prowl didn't even have to say anything. He simply pointed to a spot on the wall and the sparkling went and sat down, facing it. "Three kliks."

"He'll actually stay there?" Pica sounded amazed.

"If he wants to play again he will. Time restarts if he gets up, throws anything, speaks or is otherwise disruptive."

Pica made a low, astonished whistling sound. "You don't happen to give lessons on that, do you?"

"There isn't much to it other than consistency," Prowl told him. "Be clear about the rules. Be clear what the punishments are. Be calm. If they break the rules of the punishment, do not speak. Quietly bring them back to the spot or take the object away. The only thing you should say during the punishment is 'time has restarted' or 'time is up'. The key is consistency, remaining calm and not giving them attention when they seek it during punishment."

"Don't worry, it's really not as easy as he's making it sound," Jazz told the youth who was now staring in open-mouthed awe. "Unless you're him, that is." He watched Sunstreaker, who was now only making a half-sparked attempt at continuing to play on his own, mostly concerned with keeping an optic on his twin, impatient for him to come back. 

The remaining three kliks passed by without event and the very nanoklik they were up, Sideswipe sprang to his pedes and turned, running back, but he pulled up short when another sparkling dove on him from where he'd been hiding in a playful tackle. 

Sideswipe rolled easily with it, play-growling back at the new sparkling, who looked delighted to have found a playmate. Right up until a blur of bright yellow tackled him with a very real snarl and punch that didn't land. Moving faster than even the caretakers there could follow, Prowl was on them, separating the two sparklings with a strong hand on Sunstreaker's scruff bar.

"Sunstreaker, that was not an attack. Your brother was in no danger," Prowl said firmly, forcing the irate sparkling to look at him.

"But Sides is _mine,_ " Sunstreaker protested, then pointed at the startled sparkling who looked a bit disoriented but no worse for the wear. "He shouldn't have touched him, he's _mine!_ "

To the side, Jazz stiffened and straightened, but made no other movement. Sideswipe lingered near the other sparkling, scuffing the ground with his pede, watching his twin with only open curiosity and waiting to see what their sire decided for him. 

"Sunstreaker." Prowl growled at the bright yellow sparkling, his field sharp but not angry, his grip firm, unyielding, without hurting even the delicate sparkling armor. "He is your _brother_. He is not your possession. No mecha _belongs_ to you. That is slavery. Do you understand?"

"Brother, not slave," Sunstreaker summarized it easily.

"Sideswipe as the same right to play with others that you do," Prowl continued with that same low, firm voice Jazz remembered from his youth. It was usually directed at others, but the few times Prowl turned his particular brand of disapproval on him Jazz had cowered without really understanding why. It wasn't fear for his safety, but fear of losing the respect and care of the one mecha he all but worshiped. "That you chose to not play with others does not take away his option to do so."

"But he's my brother," Sunstreaker objected, looking frantically between Sideswipe, Prowl and Jazz for _someone_ to understand.

With a gust of air out his vents Prowl knelt to be optic level with the distressed sparkling. "Sunstreaker." He got the sparkling to look at him. "It is important that you allow your brother to be his own mech and make his own choices. Protect him, yes, but only when he is in actual danger."

"Yes, creator," Sunstreaker dropped his optics in surrender, though no one believed it was really over.

Prowl nodded, accepting the temporary victory. "Now, do you know why you should not attack another mecha?"

"It's bad manners?" the sparkling took a good guess.

"It can also get you in trouble with mecha I cannot protect you from," Prowl said.

Sunstreaker nodded, looking very uncomfortable. "I understand," he said. 

"Me too," Sideswipe said. "Can Sunny come play now? He didn't mean it."

"He knew before moving that assault is unacceptable," Prowl explained to the red twin. "He will have a time out just as you did."

"I'll do my time and be back," Sunstreaker promised, subdued by the talk and just how serious their sire's field was.

Sideswipe nodded, unconcerned, and turned towards the new sparkling who was still sitting and watching. "Wanna play?" he asked, jumping towards him.

"Yeah!" he got a grin back as they tussled.

Sunstreaker's engine growled again, but he went to the wall and sat facing it quietly.

"Wow," Pica said as Prowl came back after giving a nod of acknowledgement to the caretakers who had watched the entire exchange very closely. "Protective little sparkling." 

"Very," Jazz agreed, frowning as he watched Sunstreaker.

"It is the first time they have interacted with others their own age," Prowl added. "He will learn how to temper his possessiveness."

"I'll have to try that calm consistency stuff," Pica said, grinning. "Better results than I usually have when I'm trying to get my cousin to listen." 

"It's effective if you can do it," Jazz said, finally looking away from his creation and watching after Sideswipe, who was running with his new friend, arms outstretched, in a game of chase. "I usually get roped into whatever they're playing, myself." 

"Heh. Me too," the mechling agreed.

"You're both young," Prowl gave a slight smile. "Patience comes with age, experience and a great deal of practice."

* * *

They stopped at a public washracks on the way home to get both sparklings clean from the long, exciting orn that neither of them could stop chattering about, having apparently forgotten the few small mishaps, but once they were home, the chattering quickly gave way into drooped frames and dimmed optics and they were tucked away into recharge. Jazz watched, leaning against the wall, as Prowl stroked each of their helms, then stood and looked at his mate. 

Jazz sighed and wordlessly went into their berthroom and sat down, dataport spiraled open. Prowl sat next to him and pulled him close, his field warm and gentle, as was the kiss as he plugged in.

Jazz sagged against him, feeling worn out and stressed. ~I'm failing as a creator,~ he said. ~Aren't I.~

~It's not coming easily for you,~ Prowl only partially agreed as he held his love close, supporting him as he moved through the younger mech's processors, checking and confirming what he suspected. ~It likely never will with the twins. You are not failing, however. You are still trying, and you want to love them despite the difficulties and fears.~

~They're just so...they're--~ Jazz said, searching for the right way to describe it. ~I feel like if I could just _feel_ them it would be all right, I loved them so much when I could feel their sparks, I miss that,~ he sighed.

~They remind you of him. You're terrified that our influence won't counter his,~ Prowl spelled it out gently. ~You can't bring yourself to trust that they are innocent sparklings and far more of us than him.~

~Even he was a sparkling once,~ Jazz said, shuddering. ~And you can't be taught to _love_ pain like that, the things he got off on, it was spark deep, and he's in _them!_ ~

~As are you. Far, far more of you.~ Prowl reminded him. ~My coding plays no small part in them too. Try not to condemn them before they do more than act like normal sparklings. Even you lashed out on occasion in the first few vorns.~

~I know I'm in them,~ Jazz whispered, lifting his optics to his mate. ~That isn't...much of a comfort.~ He shook his head. ~Sparklings, they're just normal sparklings, just that,~ he repeated.

~The mech who sparked them was the terror of your existence for a vorn, and still a menace to us,~ Prowl murmured. ~I know. I have also seen amazing mecha come of bad creators, and terrible mecha come of good ones.~

Jazz nodded. ~And we'll never teach them what he was taught. They'll never know that kind of life. And they're smart, they're _so_ smart.~ He smiled at Prowl. ~Your influence.~

~And yours,~ Prowl kiss him affectionately. ~You're not shy in the processor power. They have your looks though, more than mine.~

~Are you kidding?~ Jazz asked, nuzzling back. ~Sunstreaker will have that same strong beauty as you,~ he said, running his fingers down the sides of Prowl's face. 

~Sideswipe has your wonderful warmth, and your features,~ Prowl leaned into a kiss that grew heated. ~He takes after you so much it is a joy to watch. Just as it is a joy to see that I influenced Sunstreaker enough that he displays some of my traits.~

Jazz grinned against him. ~Well, you were very dedicated about influencing,~ he teased. ~I was surprised my valve didn't just wear right through.~ He shifted, moving up onto his knees and sliding into his lover's lap, nudging their pelvises together. ~Maybe you had better make sure it's still working though.~

~As you wish, my lovely,~ Prowl rumbled as he let his spike slide free. ~I want to play with your wings while I fill you,~ he nudged his mate to kneel, hands and knees, on the berth.

Jazz purred and settled there, bent forward, aft lifted up and valve exposed for his mate. ~I am growing to love doorwings,~ he said. ~They give you such a good grip to hold while you frag me.~

~And they give a lot of lovely pleasure,~ Prowl rumbled and slammed forward, driving their interface arrays flush with a single thrust and holding there, relishing the way his lover moaned and opened for him just enough to allow him to enter. "So tight, so very good," he moaned, always remembering how much his lover enjoyed his voice. "So perfect."

"All for you," Jazz purred, squirming his hips back and stretching his arms out, flexing his fingers into the berth and arching his back. "Mmm, just like that, lover," he gasped as Prowl drove in again and squeezed the edges of his doorwings in his fingers. "Aah, you always know _just_ how." 

"I have studied you hard," Prowl grunted as he thrust, deep and hard without letting attention to Jazz's doorwings slip. "Worth every moment to hear you say that. You're worth every effort."

"Hopefully it hasn't been _real_ effort," Jazz moaned, pressing his helm to the berth and rippling his valve around his lover, trying to give back as much pleasure as he was receiving. "I'd like to think 'facing me is--mmm, oh, so good right there, _yes_ ," he shivered, losing his trail of thought, distracted by the seeking, pinching fingers moving over sensitive plating. 

Over the hardline, he felt how good it was for Prowl, physically and mentally, just as Prowl could feel what Jazz did. It wasn't a spark merge, but with so many firewalls lowered it was incredibly intimate.

"It is pure pleasure," Prowl promised, groaning at the rush coming at him from all sides. "You are pure pleasure," he added as he drove into his mate, responding to Jazz's desire to be _taken_ on a deep level of his coding.

"So are you," Jazz managed, engines starting to shudder and whine as the motion and friction made them rev harder and harder. He tried to force himself to slow, to keep the energy levels back, to enjoy this for longer, but he only managed a scant handful of kliks before small shocks were jumping between their frames and he moaned deeply. He pushed back against every drive, valve shivering around Prowl, lost to the rich, intoxicating wash of his lover's voice. "Love, _lover_ ," he gasped suddenly as he felt the energy buildup reaching its peak. "Close, close, just a little--a little-- _ah!_ " he cried, and his frame seized up, joints locking together and plating shuddering with the rush of charge that moved over him and fed right back into Prowl over the hardline.

It wasn't anything Prowl resisted and he willingly gave the couple more thrusts and roared. Energy jumped between them as highly charged transfluid burst into Jazz's valve, lighting up entirely new sensors. It was all fed in a loop, driving them into a secondary overload, then a third, before the charge was finally spent and Prowl slumped forward.

~Forgot how amazing it was when hardlined,~ Prowl murmured.

~Prowler, baby,~ Jazz purred, still shivering, plating loose and venting out heat. ~If you can pick yourself up I'd be more than happy to remind you again, and this time the other way 'round.~

A deep shiver and blinding flare of desire blasted across the hardline at the suggestion and Prowl found the coordination and energy to move. "You treat me so good, my Lord." He exposed his valve and sank down, chest to the berth, hips in the air, in much the same display that Jazz had given him. "Please, please take me, fill me, show me once again why I am your whore."

"And such a good whore," Jazz breathed, pushing himself up and running his fingertips right down Prowl's back strut, pausing to caress and circle the joints, letting his other hand take its time exploring the planes of the closest doorwing. He shifted back and moaned softly as his spike extended, awed as he always was by the sight of his bared lover, spark throbbing with the reality that this was _his_ , craving this just as much as he craved being used by the same mech. "My beautiful pet," he murmured, hands finally reaching Prowl's aft as he settled behind him. He gripped his lover's hips, tugged back, rubbing his tip in a slow circle through slick platelets, then without warning, drove himself in. 

The first tight, gripping cycle had Jazz shuddering and bending forward over Prowl, groaning as he pushed and felt the echoes of his own spike over the hardline as pleasure washed over his mate. It would never cease to amaze him how Prowl could go from dominating to submissive so quickly, but he was always grateful for it and the way it helped satisfy two deeply-encoded sides of him, the subordinate mate and the dominant Lord.

"So good, such a perfect stretch, like I was made just for you," Prowl moaned, his valve rippling and squeezing around the thickly ruffled spike.

"You were," Jazz moaned. "Oh you absolutely were, and you waited for me before you even knew I would exist." He pressed his mouth to his lover's spine, x-venting hotly and running his glossa up over the struts, sucking on them. ~And I will have your spark, I will have _you_ , and you will have me, all before his broken frame.~

"Yes," Prowl moaned deeply, the hardline blindingly bright in just how hot that image made him. ~We will break him, destroy him, and be rid of him forever. You will barely feel the break as my spark takes up the bond that should have always been mine.~

The answering groan filled Jazz's entire frame, engines revving sharply as images of the tortured and ruined rotor frame filled his processor. ~His greatest mistake,~ he panted, ~Was hurting you, and then teaching me to enjoy pain.~ The grin that crossed his face was savage and the shudders of pleasure that rippled through him went spark-deep, consuming and burning. ~We will overload to his screams, my love, to the scent of his spilled energon, to his _agony!_ ~ 

On the last word, Jazz's back arched and he gave a sharp cry, rocking forward and slamming into his mate, his transfluid and the white-hot crackle of energy both spilling into his lover. Under him Prowl keened, nearly screaming his own ecstasy as he was flooded in every way with Jazz's pleasure and poured his own back to heighten and extend their bliss until it dropped them both into a soft reboot and Jazz slumped against Prowl's back and Prowl slumped to the berth.

Jazz came back online panting, trembling down to his protoform as he managed to roll off his lover and collapse on his back, turning his head to meet Prowl's flickering gaze. "Intense," he whispered, reaching over to run his fingers along Prowl's jaw. "You're so beautiful like this," he murmured. "Overload-hot and spent."

"Same with you," Prowl managed after rebooting his vocalizer a couple times. He squirmed to snuggle against his love and almost immediately began to shut down for recharge, the hardline still connected, giving them both the welcome sense of contentment, safety, and peace. 


	23. Breaking a Family

Over the next few metacycles, Jazz and Prowl managed to find a rhythm around having two jobs and a pair of energetic and trouble-prone twins, but Jazz never stopped being tense around them.

In fact, it was getting worse.

The dancing and having his own employment and time on his own to burn some of the anxiety off had helped, and for a while, he'd even thought it had worked, especially once Prowl had had the idea of him hardlining with the twins at least once an orn to read to them. He'd been able to feel some of that closeness he remembered from when they'd still been nestled in his frame.

But even that was starting to be something he dreaded instead of looking forward to it.

He was tense. He found himself hyper-focusing on the sparklings and watching for any resemblance they might show to their spark sire, and there was plenty to be found if he looked hard enough.

Prowl was trying his best to make a good life for all four of them, but no matter what he tried lately, Jazz found himself actively avoiding the twins' presence as often as he could. But he couldn't avoid it all the time.

Prowl was in the berthroom, which had been transformed into something of a small office for him to bring work home with him and spend less time at the precinct that way, and Jazz was sitting on the lounge, watching Sunstreaker and Sideswipe playing.

It looked like a game of pretend with some kind of chase mixed in. It was hard to tell, because the two tended to talk over their bond whenever possible, but at least they were being quiet and Jazz could idly monitor and try to ignore the way he wanted them both _anywhere_ else but here.

So when Sideswipe broke from the routine they'd been following and ran over to Jazz, it was an unpleasant surprise.

"Carrier! Up! I wanna fly!" the sparkling squealed.

Jazz shifted uncomfortably as he regarded the unfamiliar-looking sparkling. "Why don't you keep playing chase with Sunny," he murmured, looking away.

"But I want to _fly!_ " Sideswipe persisted despite the sudden unease coming over the twin bond.

"I know you do," Jazz hissed softly, and when Sideswipe still didn't move, a tension he'd been feeling build for metacycles _snapped_ and he was on his pedes in an instant, towering over the sparkling, a dangerous growl rising up in his engines. "I _know_ you want to fly! You _shouldn't_ want to fly, if you were _mine_ you wouldn't want to fly!"

"Jazz?" Prowl's soft voice came from the doorway as Sunstreaker tugged on his brother, trying to get him away from _danger_ , even if _danger_ shouldn't be their carrier.

"I am yours." Sideswipe looked at Jazz, then Prowl, and his increasingly disturbed brother. It was the last that got him to take a step back.

"You're _not!_ " Jazz yelled, and gave a deep, frustrated moan, shaking, not hearing his lover, not seeing his creations, but seeing pieces of _him_. Sunstreaker had pulled Sideswipe as far back as the wall and Jazz advanced on them, hands clenched into fists. "You _can't_ be mine, I can't feel you at all and you act like him and you want to _be_ like him and you're his, you're _his!_ " he all but screamed, fingers snapping out into claws that were aimed to strike.

The twins tried to shield each other, though at less than a vorn old they were no match for an adult, much less an adult with a combat frame. There was a blur of deep blue and a heavy crash against the wall, buckling the metal as two well-armored frames impacted it.

"Get off me!" Jazz screamed, pushing and trashing under his mate's unyielding grip. He was unstable and desperate and unfocused, striking blindly, no goal except to get to these two pieces of his tormenter and destroy them, and that made him easy to keep pinned. " _Get off me!_ They can't live!"

Prowl struggled with him, clawing a dataport open and jabbing a connector in. He wasn't gentle. Any firewall that didn't drop for him was torn down until he reached Jazz's motor controls and locked them.

~Jazz!~ he yelled across the hardline as loudly as he could, trying to break Jazz's focus. 

Jazz jerked against him, shuddering as he tried to force past the lock, then snarled over the hardline at the mech that was keeping him immobile, no hint of recognition.

Pain and sorrow flooded Prowl's field before he forced his way deeper into Jazz's system controls and forced a hard reboot, holding him in shutdown for a terrible eighty nanokliks before backing off and watching the sequence and reforming consciousness carefully. Ready to interfere, ready to block the boot sequence to make edits, Prowl held himself still, completely focused on his task.

Jazz came online feeling startled and disoriented and stared at his mate, _seeing_ him and feeling everything in his field, and then choked as recent memory integrated back in, which replaced the startled disconnect with horror. ~I'm...I'm myself,~ he whispered.

Prowl gave him a hard look through the hardline, then began undoing the locks he'd put in place. ~Stay still,~ he said firmly, the kind of order that he'd once given to younglings who had a lot to answer for once Prowl had dealt with the immediate problem they'd created.

"Someone needs to explain. Very quickly." A voice that was not a stranger but neither could place snapped both their attentions towards the open door to their apartment and the enforcer standing there, shock baton drawn and standing firmly between creators and creations.

Everyone was surprised when that explanation came in the form of a small red sparkling grabbing the enforcer's leg and babbling. "I did something wrong. I don't know what. Carrier got really mad, then Sire attacked him and we were scared but nobody got hurt so you can go."

"Sideswipe," Jazz said softly as the rest of the motion locks disengaged, and then faced the mech, wincing. "I--I have a, a glitch, and he triggered it by mistake. He didn't know. I didn't realize it was a trigger," he explained, his field thick with shame as Prowl cautiously unhooked the hardline, turned and stood. Both took care to move slowly and telegraph their intentions. There was no need to give an already edgy enforcer intent on protecting two sparklings a reason to think they were still aggressive. "Pantera didn't attack me. He only knocked me down and forced a reboot."

The enforcer's gaze shifted and Prowl finally placed him. He was a neighbor. Off duty, but of course no enforcer was ever completely off duty.

"It's only acted up a couple times, and never this severely," Prowl went with the almost-truth. "I won't leave the sparklings alone with him again this decaorn," he offered in exchange for the officer to go away. "I'm not going to risk my creations."

They both watched as the officer accessed their public records, and no doubt pulled their employee files as well, along with the comments various mecha at the precinct had about them.

"If this happens again, I will have to call in sparkling protective services," he said a bit reluctantly. "Once is the warning. Twice is a problem."

"I understand," Prowl said firmly, his optics on his creations and only just reigning in the need to touch and make sure he'd gotten there in time.

Sunstreaker apparently had the same thought as his sire, because as soon as Sideswipe stepped back from the enforcer he was against his twin, running his hands over everything, scowling deeply, ignoring both the enforcer and his creators. 

"I'll talk to someone who knows coding," Jazz said quietly from where he lingered behind Prowl. "I didn't know it could get like that." 

"I think that would be best," the enforcer said, nodding, took one last sweeping look around the room, and then left. 

The moment the door had slid shut, Jazz shuddered and slumped against the wall, hand over his face, and Prowl rushed to his creations, giving into the need to touch and teek and check for damage. Once he was sure they were both unharmed, he left the twins to settle each other and returned to Jazz. 

A gentle finger slid around the dataport that Prowl had torn open. "I'm sorry for that."

"You did what was necessary," Jazz whispered, face turned away. 

"Yes," Prowl agreed with a soft sigh. "That does not mean I can not regret it. Let me in?"

Jazz nodded once, nothing else moving.

The click into the abused dataport was gentle, as was Prowl's entrance to Jazz's processors. It was in every way the opposite of their last interaction. ~Show me what happened,~ Prowl asked.

Jazz silently called the memory up, cringing away from it, and marked the moment Sideswipe had started looking unfamiliar, and then the moment when he had become nothing more than an extension of Vortex, and let the rest of the memory play uncontested, only stopping it once the data file corrupted at the very end after he'd looked at his mate and seen nothing more than an obstacle.

~That ... actually is a glitch. You weren't calling it wrong,~ Prowl said with a bit of surprise. ~Founded in software rather than hardware, but a glitch. Unfortunately I don't believe it's the kind that can be corrected by editing. I don't dare let a specialist look at you either, even if I thought they could help. Anyone who looks at this to fix it would have to look at the why.~

~I have a glitch that makes me want to kill my own creations?~ Jazz cried, moving for the first time as his head snapped up to look at Prowl, then hesitated. ~...What did you think it was?~ he asked quietly, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

~A moment of insanity, a flashback even,~ Prowl sighed softly. ~Not something that would repeat on a trigger. This one will have many triggers, now that it's integrated. You can't be alone with them again. Not until they're big enough and trained enough to fight back. Mid-stage mechlings at least. If not adults.~

~We...we can't afford that,~ Jazz said, at least as capable as his mate as doing the calculations of how much he made per metacycle, even if he was pulling double shifts. ~You can't be here all the time, they can't always go with you. Maybe...I can find something else, I can pull double, and--~ He faltered. 

And almost never see Prowl. He didn't say it, but the thought was clear over the hardline with as many firewalls as they lowered for each other.

~No, we will see plenty of each other. It is the twins you will see very little of,~ Prowl murmured, grief and loss thick inside him. ~I will arrange for them to be raised by my kin. They won't be as free, but they'll be well-cared for and safe.~

~Prowl,~ Jazz whispered, shocked. ~No, you--you should go with them,~ he said, his voice breaking over the hardline with the rush of distressed static that surged through. ~You love them.~

~I love you too. They can do well without me. You will not.~ His words were simple, honest, and brutally cold. ~They may well grow up to hate us, but they will grow up cared for by those they live with. It is not uncommon, my love. Not for my caste. It was what happened to those I carried and those I sired. They will not be unusual for being raised by someone other than their creators.~

~This isn't the same as that and you know it,~ Jazz said, and oh Primus, was he _really_ trying to convince his mate to leave him? ~You wanted them, you've _met_ them and held them and know them, don't make me the thing that takes your sparklings from you, _please_ ,~ he almost sobbed. 

~I can visit them, so long as they still want to see me,~ Prowl murmured. ~They can survive without me. You cannot. I can think of no other alternative.~

Jazz shuddered and gripped Prowl, then turned his head to look at the twins, who were sitting on the floor, huddled together and watching the creators with wide, bright optics. As soon as he met Sunstreaker's gaze, the sparkling's engines kicked into a warning rev. ~I'm so sorry,~ was all he could say. 

~I know,~ Prowl murmured. ~For now you need to be in a different room from them. I will care for the twins until I can arrange for them to be taken in by someone else.~

Jazz nodded. ~I'll go,~ he said. ~I can sit at the cafe until my shift. Just...comm me when I can come back.~

~You don't have to go,~ Prowl offered. ~They can be in the berthroom with me. You can watch vids or music out here.~

~I think...they should be somewhere familiar right now,~ Jazz said, as still-active carrier coding flared up and tore at him. ~Whatever you think is best for them.~

~I want you somewhere close too,~ Prowl said firmly. ~You are not steady yet. They will be fine out here. You stay in the berthroom until it's time for your shift. I'll make sure they're settled before you come home.~

Jazz nodded and reached up to the hardline. ~Can I talk to them?~ he asked, brutally aware that he now had to go through Prowl for any interaction. When he got the affirmative nod, he managed a half-smile in thanks, unplugged, and stood, taking the few steps over to them and kneeling more than an arm's reach away. "Sideswipe?" he said softly, focusing on the red twin. Sideswipe perked up at him, hope easily readable on his face. "You can say no, but may I hold you for a moment? I won't hurt you," he said, as much for Sunstreaker as his brother. 

Sunstreaker's little engine rumble in warning, but he didn't outright stop his brother from running to their carrier and hugging him.

Jazz gasped as he clutched his sparkling to his chest, and Sideswipe didn't protest, even when the embrace went on for far longer than he normally would have held still for. Jazz shuddered and pressed his lips to the tiny helm, kissing once, then leaned back far enough to meet his optics. "I'm so sorry I frightened you," he said, voice quiet and unsteady, running his thumb over Sideswipe's cheek. "And I'm so sorry for everything else, and I know you might not understand, not ever, but please know that I tried." 

"It's okay, Carrier," the little red sparkling tried to reassure him. "No one was hurt."

Jazz smiled at him. "I know," he said. "You are an incredibly brave and smart sparkling and I'm very proud of you. Sunstreaker?" he asked, softer, looking up and holding his arm out for the yellow twin. 

Sunstreaker regarded him warily, but eventually gave in to the silent encouragement from his twin and sire.

Jazz hugged him, not as tightly as he had Sideswipe, and kissed his helm, getting himself a suspicious squirm in response to the unfamiliar action. "You'll watch out for your brother for me, won't you?" Jazz asked. "Promise me that." He looked at Sideswipe. "Both of you."

"Of course we'll watch out for each other," Sideswipe chirped, though he was a bit confused.

"And I'll always protect him," Sunstreaker rumbled, though he was calming with the fields around him.

"Why are you so sad?" Sideswipe asked carefully.

Jazz sighed. "I'm sad because I tried to hurt you," he said. "Because if Pantera hadn't been here I could have hurt you very badly. And because I think you will be angry at me, and because I wish I could explain everything and promise it will be all right, but I can't." Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to say that he loved them. "Maybe some vorn you will understand, and maybe you will be able to forgive me then." 

The twins shared a confused look, and damn they were getting good at looking like they weren't talking over their bond, Jazz thought with a proud flicker. 

"We do forgive you, Creator," Sunstreaker told him.

Jazz pulled them back into the tight hug for a long moment. "I am so proud of you both," he murmured, kissed each of them, then let go and stood, going straight into the berthroom. He closed the door, something unprecedented in their time here, and left the twins to stare at Prowl in bewildered confusion.

"Do you have any questions right now?" Prowl asked them, weary to his spark and aching at the painful choice he'd made with so little effort.

"Is Carrier okay?" Sideswipe asked quietly.

Prowl sighed and knelt to gather them both in his arms. "No, he is not all right," he murmured. He'd never lied to them and he wasn't going to start now. "The bad mech damaged him and we're still discovering how badly."

"You should get the bad mech in trouble," Sunstreaker said, his face in a very deep frown as he looked up at Prowl.

"I want to, but he is powerful. Far more powerful than we are. It is why we hide who we are," Prowl told him gently but firmly, keeping his voice low. "Punishing such mecha takes a great deal of time and planning. Centuries."

Sideswipe looked from Prowl to the door of the berthroom, confusion and the first hints of anxiety starting to creep into his field. "Why did Carrier go?" he asked. "He likes to be with you when he is sad."

Prowl let his doorwings droop along with the grief in his field. "Because he cannot be near either of you right now. We can't know when he'll lose control again."

"But..." Sideswipe said, and looked at his twin, then back at Prowl. "I'll be good, I promise! I won't jump or ask anything and he doesn't even have to play with me he can just watch! I'll be really really quiet, really!" He looked at Prowl with huge, pleading optics while next to him, Sideswipe frowned quietly, teeking his sire's field.

"I know you would," Prowl did his best to reassure his creations with voice, field and frame. "I know you can. But it is not fair to either of you to have to exist like that. You are sparklings. You should be free to play and enjoy your youth. Adult status will come too quickly. Play with me until it's time to recharge?"

Sideswipe sighed and nodded, not looking like he wanted to play in the slightest as he leaned against Prowl's chest. 

"Can we read a story instead?" Sunstreaker asked.

"Sure thing," Prowl smiled at them, more than content to just hold them and record a few more memories while they were still here. "What kind of story do you want?"

"A happy one," Sunstreaker said quietly, while Sideswipe nodded and they both clung to the sire, unable to explain what was happening but knowing without a doubt that it wasn't anything good and wanting the steady comfort that Prowl had always provided.

* * *

Mortar lifted his head when his door pinged an entrance request. He accepted and it slid back to reveal Prowl standing in the hallway. 

"Oh, I was going to call you in this orn anyway," Mortar said, smiling as warmly as he could at the mech. "This saves me the trouble. I suppose you know why, word travels fast around here, though I also imagine that's why you're here."

"Yes, sir," Prowl said and stepped inside, allowing the door to close behind him. "Arrangements have already been made so that Saxo is never alone with them. I am contacting kin and a few others to find a more permanent home for them." Despite the matter-of-fact tone, the agony Prowl was in was not well hidden.

Mortar frowned. "There has to be a better solution than that," he said. "Can I ask what happened, exactly? I have the report here, but..." 

Prowl dropped his gaze before gathering himself. "Sideswipe's spark sire is a sadist. He had Saxo for a vorn or so, far too long for a mech barely into his adult upgrade. All Saxo can see in his creation now is that mech. They'll never be safe around him until they can fight back and stop him if he glitches again. They're barely a vorn old now. I can't protect them that long and keep Saxo too."

"Sunstreaker is in similar danger?" Mortar asked, gesturing to the seat across from the desk and setting out a cube of high grade for Prowl to take if he'd like it.

"He's extremely protective of his brother," Prowl couldn't help the small but proud smile as he sat down, though he didn't take the high grade yet. "He puts himself between Sideswipe and anything he views as a threat. That includes things that he is no better at defending against than Sideswipe is." He picked up the cube and fiddled with it without drinking anything. "I've watched Saxo's memory of what happened. He didn't even recognize me when the glitch took over. There's more than a ninety percent chance that even without Sideswipe there, Sunstreaker could trigger it. We invested a lot of effort into making sure we were both creators to them. It's coming back to bite us in the aft now."

Mortar was still frowning as he took out his own cube and rolled it in his hands. "Has he seen a specialist for the glitch? Something like that, something that developed post-adult upgrades, is much easier to fix than something he was created with."

Prowl nodded, grief and frustration in the set of his doorwings. "They said it could be fixed, but it would involve stripping pretty much everything from when the trauma began onwards. It's not much time to lose, not even two and a half vorns, but he wouldn't remember me, the sparklings, almost nothing after his adult upgrades. It ... it's a no-win situation for us."

Mortar's optics spiraled wide and he sank back in his chair, x-venting heavily. "That's...one worked in glitch," he said, shaking his head. He leaned forward, put his hand over Prowl's caught the smaller mech's gaze with his own. "And this is what you want? You would rather stay with him than keep your sparklings? I need to know this is your choice, not his."

Prowl looked up and met his gaze steadily. "I love the sparklings, but they will be raised well and lack for little. They will have a better education than I can give them and a future within an estate if they want it. The only difference between them and my first three is that I learned their designations and had a little time to become attached," he again spoke the unvarnished truth. "I will get over losing them soon. My creator protocols are set up not to grieve the loss for long. Loosing Saxo... he's far more my future than any of my creations could be."

Mortar nodded. "As long as it's what you want to do," he said. "You know you have Enforcer support behind any decision you make." He paused for a moment. "And you'll get to see them if they're with your kin, I'm sure. I have to commend you for being so proactive, most cases like this don't end so well." 

"Thank you," Prowl relaxed, his field expressing his deep gratitude. "Planning, assessing data and organizing it is what I do best. I'm grateful that Saxo is willing to let me make the arrangements. This could be extremely ugly if he didn't want to give them up. I will keep you appraised of my progress on selecting their new home and when I will require a few orns leave to take them there and say goodbye."

Mortar nodded. "Take all the time you need. With all the work you've saved me on reports I think you get vacation time whenever you need it." He looked over his desk with a rueful chuckle. "Who knew that getting to be in charge meant so much desk work."

"The last precinct chief," Prowl chuckled and stood. "Thank you for your understanding and support, sir."

* * *

Jazz left through the exit in the back of the club once his shift was over, avoiding the audience and any possible socializing completely, not wanting to talk to anyone, just wanting to get back home and curl around Prowl and try to slip into recharge without thinking too much. 

He was walking past the building when part of the wall just stepped out and the familiar golden visor lit up. 

"I'm going home," Jazz said, pushing past him.

"You haven't even heard the offer," Radiance chuckled. "What mecha turns down free high grade and a sympathetic shoulder?"

"The kind who doesn't want to talk to anyone," Jazz said. "Notice the suspicious back door exit?"

"Those are usually the mecha who need to talk the most, or at least get thoroughly blasted on high grade," Radiance countered, seeing the resistance wasn't as strong as Jazz wanted to portray.

Jazz hesitated, then stopped and turned back. "Thoroughly blasted?"

"I'll make sure you get home in one piece," Radiance nodded and held up a credit stick that had more than enough on it for a night of _very_ serious drinking for several mecha.

Jazz eyed it. "I'll let Pantera know I'm going to be late," he said, and sent his mate a quick ping before holding his arm out in front of them. "You lead the way."

Radiance grinned as he put the credit stick away and walked off, trusting Jazz would follow. It wasn't far to his favorite bar to get information out of overcharged targets, and he was sure Jazz had secrets a plenty to tell.

The overwhelming press of mecha in the bar didn't seen to phase Jazz in the slightest and he followed Radiance easily through the crowds until they got to a table that emptied as soon as the occupants saw the SWAT CO, and the high grade was there moments later. 

"Someone's popular," Jazz said dryly, and tipped the entire drink back in one swallow.

"I earn it," Radiance cracked a grin and studied Jazz. "Just one question I expect an answer to. This time next vorn, will you and Pantera be in better shape?"

Jazz scowled at him. "Pantera and I are fine," he said. 

Radiance cocked his helm. "You can't really expect that to pass muster. You're both a mess, and your sparklings aren't much better. I may not know many details, but I know things are hardly fine."

Jazz accepted the second cube and looked at it for a moment before downing it. "I'm not sure why it has to pass muster," he said, with a shiver from the energy rush. "Pantera is still doing his work, he's taken all the responsible steps with Mortar, and why do you care if everything is fine or not?"

"Is it really so hard to believe I might be looking out for you because I like you?" Radiance asked softly. "Not everything I do is about work."

Jazz's optics cycled in surprise and his field flickered with the same. He hesitated, frowning. "You hardly know me." 

"Maybe, but I know enough to want to know you better, just as a mech," Radiance gave Jazz a gentle smile. "You've got a good spark, and it hurts to see you hurting so much. Both of you, but Pantera has a lot more support at work. I don't think you have anyone but him."

Jazz shrugged uncomfortably. "Never really...needed anyone but him."

"You don't have to need anyone else to find other support helpful," Radiance suggested. "Having a friend doesn't take anything away from what you have with him."

"Yeah," Jazz said, looking at the table. "...What do you know? There have to be rumors, right? About..." He waved his hand vaguely. 

"The sparklings were endangered, and that it's not something that can be fixed," Radiance kept his voice low and even. "Pantera is looking for a new home for them. And whatever Mortar knows disturbed him a lot. More than a few rumors that you were seriously abused by your last lover."

Jazz huffed a laugh. "I hope you meant it when you said thoroughly blasted," he said, raising his fingers for a third round. "Pantera and I _are_ fine. That's...almost the worst part," he said softly. 

Radiance hummed and nodded. "Not many have a clue about most of it," he offered a bit of reassurance. "Just a few officers. Most who have a clue only know that there was a domestic the other night. Not good, but nothing too horrible. That and Pantera is very protective of you."

"He's always been like that," Jazz said, and after the third cube, could feel it becoming easier to relax. "What... would you do, if someone loved you so much he was willing to go through the Pit of losing his sparkling to stay with you?"

"Thank Primus several times an orn for it," Radiance answered first. "Then whatever I had to to make sure he knew it and it wasn't a one-way street. A mate that loyal's almost unheard of." He swirled his first cube of high grade, barely halfway finished. "And get ready to be the one who made some sacrifices. He hasn't said much, but most of us can see it. He wants to be an enforcer, and he'll be a damn good one."

"He can do whatever he wants to," Jazz said. "I'm just...I know this is what he wants, and it's his choice, but...I can't help but think he would be better off if I were gone. And I know that's awful, and stupid, but I keep thinking it. He could have such a good life if he'd never met me. And I don't even know why I'm telling you this," he said bitterly.

"Because I'm willing to listen?" Radiance suggested. "He might have a good existence, but he wouldn't have the mech he loves so much to share it. For what it's worth, experience has taught me that it's easy to make a good existence. It's hard as Pit to find someone you love with all your spark. Your youth isn't helping you on this one. And, well, sparklings are gone in three centuries. A good mate is with you forever."

"...Yeah," Jazz said, shifting again. He gave a startled look at the server who put a fourth cube in front of him, then looked at Radiance, who smiled back. 

"Thoroughly blasted," the visored mech said. 

Jazz offered him as much of a smile as he could manage before taking a deep swallow. "I did try," he said quietly. "To love them, that is. To want them. I thought I wanted them. I think I even loved them for a little while, and then..." He waved his hand again. "Guess it doesn't matter."

"Do you think you might want to try again, without the shadow of his spark sire?" Radiance prodded lightly.

"What makes you think it was his spark sire?" Jazz asked with a defensive growl.

"Common sense," Radiance shrugged. "You were abused long term. It's pretty obvious. It's also obvious it's not Pantera that's doing it. So what can get a carrier out of an abusive relationship? Threat to the sparkling. The protocols don't tend to hold well after separation, but while it's still inside sparkling protection and self-preservation protocols line up in a powerful mix."

Jazz was quiet for a long klik, staring at his drink, before his gaze flickered back up. "What makes it obvious that I was..." Another dismissive hand wave and a dark scowl. "Pantera knows about it, I've never told anyone else."

"You don't have to," Radiance said gently. "Not many mecha are trained to see it, but to those of us who are, you've got every marker of serious long-term abuse. That you have such difficulty maintaining a bond with the sparkling you carried says that the one who abused you sired it."

Jazz gave a noncommittal hum, finished what remained of the current drink, gave a hard shudder, and straightened, the teekable mood in his field flipping over in a nanoklik. "Pantera wants to carry for us," he said brightly. "He's a natural carrier, he takes well to it."

"That he does," Radiance went with it smoothly. "He's an excellent creator from all I've seen and heard. An excellent mate too."

"He is," Jazz said, then grinned. "And he's excellent in berth," he purred. "Or anywhere."

"Of that I have no doubt," Radiance grinned back. "Even if I do doubt that many mecha know just how good."

"Maybe more than you would think," Jazz said smoothly. "He had an active youth." The fifth cube came and disappeared. "You know I don't think I've actively tried to get overcharged since my adult upgrades." 

"Have you ever been overcharged?" Radiance asked curiously as he reevaluated just how sheltered Jazz's life must have been.

"Uh, as a mechling, kind of," Jazz said. "Wasn't supposed to, but, I mean, Sideswipe isn't _entirely_ a creation of his spark sire," he said with a chuckle. "And then it wasn't safe for a long time, and then carrying and then sparklings...no, not really," he finally decided. 

"Well then, it's _long_ past time you get good and completely blasted," Radiance grinned widely and sipped on his own cube, still his first. "Mecha should do it at least once in his youth."

"And what better time than when my life is falling apart and with a dazzlingly attractive officer of the law," Jazz grinned. "Wow that kicks in fast." 

"You've downed enough to drop Mortar," Radiance chuckled. "And I'd hardly say your life is falling apart, Saxo. You have a job you like, enough credits to have a good apartment, repairs and energon, and most importantly, a mate who loves you more than anything and is also doing work he enjoys. Really, what you have when the dust settles is pretty damn good."

"That's true," Jazz said. "It's better than getting gang-'faced and drinking Empties in the gutters to survive or something."

Radiance only barely controlled the shock from slamming through his field and mute his vocalizer before it sputtered. That was real life talking, even if Jazz didn't realize what he'd said. Instead he kept his easy smile in place and agreed. "Much better. It's sad what some mecha have to do to get by these orns. The gutters are getting bigger every vorn."

Jazz shrugged in dismissive agreement. "Yeah. So could be much worse. And maybe when the dust settles I'll have a 'facing life again."

"Stress can do that," Radiance said sympathetically. "It usually picks up when the stress settles. It's miserable in the meantime. Not a lot to do about it if you're exclusive though."

"Miserable being...um, an understatement," Jazz said. "Or an overstatement I guess. I think. Better than what it could be." He sighed. "I'll just focus on a 'facing life to look forward to. And Pantera carrying," he added with a purr. "And high grade."

"Yes to all of those," Radiance replied warmly. "It sounds like a good future, and I'm sure he'll agree."

"Mhmm," Jazz said, smiling happily. "'M gonna have a Pit of a processor ache, huh?"

Radiance chuckled. "If you can get yourself to move at all tomorrow, I'll be amazed. The first serious overcharge is always the worst, though the downcharge cycle is never fun. Still useful for forgetting for a while though."

"Now you tell me," Jazz grinned, letting his head fall back to rest against the wall. "Promise you'll get me home and not take advantage," he teased, but there was something very real in the request.

"I gave you my word before you had the first drop," Radiance turned very serious. "I'll get you home and I won't take advantage of you. I'm not into that kind of 'facing. I want my partners just that: partners."

Jazz nodded. "Thought so," he said. "Hasn't...really been my experience with most. Just Pantera. Primus I love him," he hummed happily.

"I know," Radiance smiled softly. "It shows every time you talk of him, every time you're near him, every time you think of him. He loves you just as much. I see it in him too."

Jazz just hummed in happy agreement, optics flickering a bit, and Radiance subtly motioned for the server not to bring the next cube over, and got an amused, knowing smile in return. 

It took an incredibly long time for the actual distance covered, but Radiance did manage to get his overcharged charge back to his apartment, and the door opened before they even got to it. Prowl was there, stepping into Jazz's staggering lunge for him with strong arms and a nuzzle.

"Thank you," Prowl looked up at Radiance while his hands stroked Jazz's back. "For taking him out, and for returning him. I'll be ready for his state after recharging."

Jazz purred against Prowl's neck. "Love let's 'vite Radiance over a night," he slurred. "He has these--um--hands, he has hands."

At Prowl's bemused look, Radiance chuckled. "I think he means the mag upgrades I have," he said, lifting his hand to show his palm. "And no problem," he added with a small shrug. "He seemed like he needed it."

"I expect he did," Prowl nuzzled his lover again. "Recharge well, Radiance. I'll see about getting him in our berth before he collapses," his optics held a knowing glimmer from when he was much younger, and from overseeing many youths through their early attempts at high grade.

Radiance nodded and gave the pair a smile. "Recharge well," he replied before leaving.

Prowl smiled down at Jazz and nudged him inside, guiding him to their berth and some badly needed recharge.

In three orns the sparklings would be gone, taken to Polyhex and likely to never see Jazz again until they were in their final frames, if they chose to at all.

Three orns and he would once more hand his creations over to near-strangers in a far away estate to raise. Only this time, he was doing it because he loved his mate, rather than because he had been ordered to and did not truly perceive the sparklings as his.

* * *

"Where's Carrier?" Sideswipe asked as he fidgeted in Prowl's cab. They'd been driving for what seemed like forever to the sparklings, and honestly it seemed like forever to Prowl too.

"He's in Praxus," Prowl explained once more. "You already said goodbye to him."

"Why didn't he come too?" Sideswipe asked, not for the first time, looking out the window.

"Because his creator protocols are badly damaged. It is the reason you will be living in Polyhex. You are not safe around him."

"But I promise really really _really_ to be good!" came the predictable response.

"Does Carrier still love us?" Sunstreaker asked from where he was curled up as close as he could get to the interior plating, having been quiet for most of the drive.

Prowl's field reached inward to wrap them in his own soothing love, and how deeply he loved them. "No, I do not believe he does. The bad mech hurt him too badly. Once he could no longer feel you, he could not emotionally connect with you."

He felt Sideswipe stiffen and then shiver before he crawled over to huddle with his brother. "But I love him," he whispered. 

"And we're not like the bad mech," Sunstreaker added quietly. "Are we?"

"No, little one," Prowl cooed. "You aren't like him at all. But Jazz can't perceive that anymore. He's been very badly damaged."

Sunstreaker hummed quietly, thoughtful, and Sideswipe sighed. After a moment, Sunstreaker lifted his head back up. "Will you stay with us? We want you to stay with us." 

"I know, and I want to stay with you both. I cannot," Prowl didn't hide his regret and grief. "Jazz needs me too much. You will be well cared for by Amberwave and I will visit as often as I can."

"But I love you," Sunstreaker said, voice sounding like he might be close to crying again, and Sideswipe made a soft sound of agreement.

"I know," Prowl's vocalizer gave as much emotional static as it did word glyphs. "I will visit as often as I can."

"You still love us right?" Sideswipe asked, needing to hear it. "We're not bad?"

"I love you both a great deal," Prowl promised them. "You are not bad. You have never been bad. You are wonderful sparklings. None of this is your fault."

"Okay," Sideswipe whispered, and curled up against Sunstreaker, who huddled against Prowl, silent and still for the rest of the drive. 

It was an excruciating three more joors for Prowl before he pulled into the servant entrance of the Calidar estate in Polyhex. Mecha moved about their duties, gave him exactly one glance and ID ping and moved on without a pause. A well-run estate with servants that were respectful but not fearful. It was exactly how he had run his. 

A moment of loss at what he had been bred, raised and trained to do came and went unnoticed at the grief of loosing his sparklings.

"We are here," he roused the sparklings in his cab as he pulled to a stop near an entrance for people rather than goods.

They quietly and obediently crawled out of the opened door and stood back for Prowl to transform, then stepped close and stuck near his legs as he walked. 

"Punctual, cousin," said the stern-looking Praxian standing at the doorway, waiting for them. His gaze swept down over the sparklings and he nodded once, then turned, leading them inside. "We will speak in confidence in my office where we will not be disturbed."

Prowl nodded, silent, and let his creations into the well-maintained estate as he followed his kin. They passed through halls that were quieter than Prowl would have expected to get to the seneschal's office, passing right by the huge dining hall on the wall, where he caught a glimpse of the long table and all of the chairs covered in white cloth. Predictably, the sparklings slowed as they looked into the biggest room they'd ever seen and Prowl paused for a moment to let them look, Amberwave stopping a half-step later and turning politely as he waited. 

"That's for fueling?" Sideswipe whispered, peering in. 

"Why's it all covered?" Sunstreaker asked. 

"That is the dining hall," Amberwave said. "It is covered because my Lords are currently away from the estate, and it is not being used." He gave the sparklings a strict look. "It is not for playing." 

They looked at him, startled, obviously not having expected him to immediately guess their intentions.

"Amberwave has overseen many sparklings. He knows how little ones think. No part of the estate that is for the Lords to use is for playing," Prowl said firmly.

"Aw," Sideswipe said as they started walking again, giving the tempting looking room one more backwards glance. 

"How do we know what is for playing and what is not?" Sunstreaker questioned a few kliks later. 

"You will be thoroughly instructed and monitored," Amberwave said, palming a door open and stepping aside to let them enter before him. Prowl heard him keying in a lock code as he passed. 

The office was modest, neat, perfectly functional and already had a chair for Prowl and one for the sparklings to share. Amberwave went around to sit on the opposite side of the desk and slid two datapads towards Prowl. "First and foremost," he said. "Legality and security. I have their official records from Praxus, and the permission from my Lord Timestone to bring two new charges in for fostering. As their current legal guardian, I need you to sign off on both of these."

Prowl knew the forms intimately, but read them anyway to ensure they were what he was expecting. With little more than a nod he signed over legal custody of his vorn-old creations to a mech that he had only met across comms.

Amberwave took them back, gave a satisfactory hum, and set them aside before leaning across the desk with steepled fingers. "There were bounty hunters here directly following your incident, poking around, attempting to gain access to me for questions. I wouldn't worry about them returning, we have many cousins," he added with a wry smile, the first he'd shown. "And I doubt they're keeping track of the comings and goings of servant-class younglings in estates. Their records pass every check I have run on them, and there is no reason to believe they are related beyond being age-mates, provided they do not give one. How well have they been trained to hide what they are?" 

"Very well," Prowl said with certainty. "They have spent a great deal of time at the enforcer precinct I work at and there has been no indication of suspicion. They understand, as well as they can, the risks of being discovered."

"An enforcer precinct," Amberwave said, tone and field soaked with disdain, shaking his head. "You are being wasted, cousin. And all for an oligar playing pretend in a world he could never hope to understand." 

"I know," Prowl sighed. "It is better than the use that oligar had for me."

"Indeed," Amberwave said. "A disgrace, to misuse one of our line in such a way." He looked at Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, who looked uncertainly back. "Have they shown any indication of being able to integrate seneschal systems when they are mature?" he asked. "Or did the carrier's influence taint them too much?" 

"They both have the requisite processor power and quality of protoform," Prowl said. "Sunstreaker is more likely to adapt them to inventory, while Sideswipe is much more socially inclined."

Amberwave nodded. "Though ultimately unlikely to find true joy in serving, considering your spark creators and your carrier, we will see what can be done with you," he told the sparklings, then looked back up at Prowl. "Do you have any questions, or would you like copies of their contracts?" he asked politely.

Prowl paused, torn. He did want a copy, because it was his nature to keep all contracts and data. It was rooted in his very function, his purpose in existence. Yet he fought down that desire.

"It would be best if we do not have anything linking us so directly to where they are," Prowl said softly, his doorwings tense at the break in behavior. "If we are captured, it may take long enough to track them down for them to escape if there is nothing on us to lead hunters here. My memory file will have to suffice."

Amberwave's optics softened slightly at the tension and pain that he could read in the smallest tilt of Prowl's doorwings, but his own posture remained just as rigid. "Would you like to accompany us to see where their berths will be?" he asked. "It should be empty right now--" He paused for a moment to access the cameras to ensure that, and nodded his satisfaction when it was. "You could take a few kliks in there with them before you leave, and if you'd like, I could ask Raela to join us briefly. She is the sparkling caretaker."

"Thank you," Prowl's optics shown with gratitude as he stood. "I would appreciate that a great deal."

Amberwave nodded understandingly and looked at the twins. "Come with me," he said, and stood and waited while they climbed off the chair themselves before leading them back through the hallways, only this time, going through the servants' network instead of the main halls. 

"This is where you will recharge," he announced as they reached one door in a long hallway, and palmed it open.

Prowl knew what to expect, a simple interior room with six sparkling berths, an area for holding classes and playing, and very little else, like the one he'd been raised in. He'd been raised in the same estate as his carrier, which was unusual for his family, but he'd been treated as any other servant class sparkling.

"This is it?" Sideswipe asked, looking around. 

"It is a standard environment," Amberwave said. "If you have any personal belongings, you may store them beneath your berths." 

"We always share a berth," Sideswipe said, stepping close to his twin and looking up at the intimidating seneschal. 

"You will each have your own," Amberwave said, and both sparklings immediately looked at Prowl.

"You will obey Amberwave and Raela as you have obeyed me." Prowl promptly pinged Amberwave the way he'd disciplined the pair.

Amberwave glanced over the procedures, found nothing unexpected, and nodded his satisfaction. "They will find very little change in Raela's disciplinary procedures," he said. "Although she is more..." He paused for a moment, searching for the glyphs he wanted. " _Permissive_ to the spontaneous nature of sparklings than I am apt to be. Though still within acceptable boundaries." 

The twins exchanged an uncertain glance, fairly certain that was good for them, but not convinced by Amberwave's tone.

"These two are your berths," Amberwave said, walking over to the set and gesturing. "There are three other sparklings who currently live here, you will meet them later this orn. Hello, Raela," he greeted as the door opened behind Prowl and a femme with a friendly smile entered. 

"So these are my new charges?" she trilled with warm excitement and walked up to the pair. "Welcome to the Calidar estate, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe." She knelt and greeted them correctly, looking at each sparkling to show that she knew which was which.

::Raela, I brought a few of their toys, if it is permissible. I can leave them in the general bin or theirs,:: Prowl commed her privately.

::They may have their own toys,:: her tone was a smile, since her focus remained on her charges.

Sunstreaker was regarding her warily but Sideswipe chirped an equally warm, "Thank you, Raela." 

"You are very welcome," she smiled at him. "How are you liking it here?" 

They drooped simultaneously. "It's nice," Sideswipe said reluctantly, kicking at the ground. "Not like home. I miss Carrier." 

Raela stroked her thumb over the top of his head soothingly. "Don't worry, no one will ask you to feel at home here any sooner than you're ready," she said, then looked at Sunstreaker, who looked back silently. ::Anything I should know about them?:: she asked Prowl. 

::They are hyper-protective of each other and Sunstreaker is more than mildly possessive of Sideswipe. He knows he should not act on it. Sunstreaker is as introverted as Sideswipe is extroverted and he tends to let Sideswipe do the talking.:: Prowl explained smoothly and databurst her the full file he had prepared. ::Sideswipe will warm up to everyone and the situation much faster than Sunstreaker, though Sunstreaker is likely to adapt more quickly on an emotional level so long as Sideswipe is there. Sunstreaker is the smarter, more creative one, but Sideswipe is more likely to think up ways to get into trouble, unintentional and otherwise. Their sparks are good and they want to please, but they are vorn old sparklings.::

::That is very good to know,:: Raela said, her warm smile at the pair never faltering as she processed and integrated that into her knowledge of them. "I know it may take some time, but I want you to know you can trust me with anything," she said. "Above all, I want you to be safe and happy here. I have to go back to the other sparklings now, and you may stay in this room, or come join us if you'd like, just send me a comm and I will come get you. That door," she said, pointing at the entrance, "Will only open to me, Amberwave, and a few others you will meet later. You'll get a better idea of our ornly schedule tomorrow, but for today I'd just like you to relax as much as you can, okay?" 

They nodded together. Raela took another moment to smile and rub Sideswipe's shoulder comfortingly before she rose. "Do you have any questions before I go?" she asked Prowl.

"No," he said quietly, managing to maintain a professional air by only the slimmest of margins. "Thank you for tending to them when I cannot."

"They will be well cared for here," she assured him, gave a nod to Amberwave, who nodded back, and left. 

"Would you like some time?" Amberwave asked gently. "I will remain in the hall to show you out whenever you are ready, though I believe soonest would be best for everyone."

"Yes," Prowl nodded, canting his doorwings in thanks. He didn't wait for Amberwave to leave to go to his creations and kneel, offering his arms.

They ran immediately into them, pressing tightly against him and clinging to his armor. Behind him, Prowl heard the door open and close, and paid it no more attention as Sunstreaker pressed his face to his chest and shivered unhappily. 

"Can you stay longer?" the yellow twin asked. "I don't want you to go." 

"I do not wish to leave you," Prowl admitted, keeping very quiet the knowledge that his grief would fade within a few orns, and without further contact he would not recognize them as anyone special within the vorn. What he said was the truth in this moment and that was all the pair needed to know. "I must leave tonight. I have a few kliks left, then you must look to Raela and Amberwave." He lowered his helm, his field expressing his full grief that he could not make things work. "I will visit as often as I can."

"Maybe you could live here too," Sunstreaker said hopefully. 

"No 'cause Carrier needs him," Sideswipe corrected. 

"He tried to hurt you," Sunstreaker growled quietly.

Sideswipe scowled at his brother as the argument shifted internal, one they'd doubtlessly had many times before this judging from the lack of surprise in either of their fields. It lasted less than a klik, and then Sunstreaker sighed and Sideswipe looked at his brother sadly before hugging him. "Creator will visit," he promised. "And I'll be here."

"Yes," Prowl promised them. "No one is going to try and separate you. You need each other more than you need me."

"But," Sunstreaker said quietly, then sighed. It had all been said before. He huddled into his sire's arms and his twin's embrace, quivering and silent for as many kliks as Prowl would allow him. 


	24. Insanity Met

Jazz got back from work and walked inside, then stopped and looked around their apartment, frowning. Prowl had left with the twins earlier that orn and wasn't going to be back for another four. He'd already gathered everything belonging to the sparklings, every small cube of energon, every blanket, every toy they hadn't taken with them, and donated what he could, incinerating the rest. 

It was clean. 

It was _empty._ He hadn't realized how much space the twins had taken up until every trace of them had been removed, driven by the frantic need to have reminders of them out of his life. The less he thought about them, the less guilty he felt, and the less his still-active creator protocols tore at him as a failure. It didn't seem fair, he thought with a bitter smirk, that Vortex could render him incapable of loving or accepting his own sparklings, without fully breaking his need to be a creator.

So he'd scoured the apartment of every trace of the sparklings. But this silent emptiness... it was louder than anything. The empty window seat, the missing toy bin, the walls that were stripped of the artwork Sunstreaker had so enjoyed creating for his creators, all of it _screaming_ at him that he'd failed, utterly and completely. There was no way he was going to recharge in here tonight. He would find somewhere else, possibly see if he could track down Radiance or curl up in an alley if it came to that, but until Prowl was back, it was not going to be _here_.

His blaster was already in his subspace--that habit hadn't broken since Simfur--so there was nothing else he needed to grab once he had a few cubes tucked away as well. He looked over the empty walls once more, shook his head, and was gone. 

* * *

Jazz hadn't been able to find the SWAT commander and the night was almost halfway gone, leaving him wandering around through areas of the city he'd never been in before. Stupid, easily, but he wasn't in a mood to care. He paused at an alley and looked down, seeing the unmistakable shape and movement of a buymech on its knees in the filth, and his gaze sharpened. He couldn't reach Vortex, but he could do something else in the meantime. He'd been in alleys like this before, he knew just which mecha to look for. 

They were easy to find, prowling the ways, looking into the dark corners for the optics that would brighten and look away at the same time. Jazz found his first within kliks. 

"Lookin' for a 'face, darling?" he purred.

The mech stopped, looked at him, then snorted. "Ain't no way I can afford a frame like that," he grunted. "Prolly want a hundred, huh?"

Jazz just smiled sweetly. "What if I told you I'm free?"

"What's the catch?" The stranger was suspicious and very interested at the same time.

"No catch," Jazz said, and held his hands out disarmingly. "I want it for my own reasons. You obviously want it for yours. 'Face me as hard as you want--and I mean _as hard_ as you want--and you're on your way."

Despite the lingering suspicion the big mech pushed Jazz against the wall and grabbed his hips to lift him, half surprised to find the valve cover open and ready, the scent of clean, fresh lubricant drifting upwards. Without any more hesitation he extended and slammed into that valve, moaning and grunting at how unusually good it felt.

Jazz gave a short, low groan, gripping the mech's shoulders for stability and held on, spreading his legs around the pushing hips and driving back onto the spike. "Just like that," he moaned, and let his head fall back, keeping Vortex in mind the entire time, recording the feel of the thick spike in the highest detail he was capable of.

It was vengeance, but he realized that his words were having an effect on the mech driving into him. He'd offered his valve for free, expecting nothing, and the spike was still trying to seek out his pleasure points. Apparently even in an ally, generosity sometimes meant something, as the big mech focused on his pleasure as well as he could, pushing and pulling with more intent than not. 

It still took less than another klik before the low, rolling moan escaped and Jazz was flooded with thick, hot, charged transfluid.

The mech over him shuddered and Jazz held very still, enjoying the tingling charge it sent through him, cycling his valve in gradually slowing rhythms until the mech slumped and pulled out and lowered him to the ground. 

Jazz regained his footing and relaxed back, looking up at the mech with half-shuttered optics as he reached between his legs, stroked his fingers through the mix of lubricant and leaking transfluid, and lifted them back up to his mouth, slowly licking them clean. "Got any friends, big guy?"

* * *

He'd spent the first night in an alcove, crawling there when he couldn't find anyone else to take him, most of him sore, some of him bleeding, and with an odd, disquieting peace in his spark. 

Public washracks got him looking fit enough for work and he hadn't even tried going home afterwards this time. He knew better. So the streets again, back to the nameless spikes and the poundings into the street, scraping plating down to the bare metal from the sheer weight of some of them alone. Every spike was recorded in the highest detail, one more chip tossed into the pile of what he would one orn show his bonded, and hope that it hurt that mech to see this valve he had once possessed as his own belonging to anyone and everyone who wanted it, down to the lowest, dirtiest Empty that Jazz rode after coaxing its spike out. Hope it hurt as much as Jazz had when he'd seen his sparklings' faces looking at him in terror. As much as feeling Prowl's agony orn after orn. 

Something new to look forward to. A goal to work towards. But not the only activity that kept Jazz entertained all that night. 

The idea came to him midway through the night, when the same mech was still revved up enough after his first overload to keep ramming into him, and Jazz fought down the scoff of impatience from where he was saddled around the thick spike. He was _bored_ with this one. His thoughts wandered along with his hands, and he brushed against subspace near the mech's hip. Instinct snatched his hand away--it was impolite to touch another's subspace--and then curiosity put it right back. The mech didn't react. Jazz slipped his fingers in, carefully monitoring, and pulled them back out, several credit sticks heavier. When the mech roared in overload, he got his entire hand in, groping deep enough to grab even more, and the mech still never felt a thing. 

As Jazz staggered his way to his feet, gyros still a little tilted from the ride he'd just had, sticky heat flowing down his thighs from his still-open valve, he grinned. 

Well now. Here was a fun game. 

* * *

The trend tonight so far had been on his hands and knees, which made it harder to reach back into a mech's subspace, but by arching his back and putting his weight forward onto his forearm while reaching his other back, he could just barely manage to get into their subspace without being noticed. 

The mech behind him was gripping his hips and digging into the joints as he drove, and Jazz hissed quietly, pressing his helm against his arm, and _waited_. The brute would overload soon, and he'd see if he could get away with another theft before he found his next 'face. 

Another grunt and low rumble and his valve was flooded with fluid once more, the mech behind him oblivious as Jazz slipped in, wrapped his fingers around the credit sticks there, and slipped back out in a quick, fluid motion. 

The grip on his hips loosened, the frame sagged, and Jazz squirmed his frame. "Want more?" he asked.

"Hungry little slut," the mech rumbled and began thrusting again, eager to enjoy this fine piece of aft while he could.

"Uh huh, yes babe, yes like that, stretch me wide, that's right," Jazz moaned with no real feeling behind the words, but the mech didn't seem to mind. Third overload in, and this time he was taking longer to get revved back up, but Jazz has realized that the opportunity for a free frag worked better than anything else he did. The talking just made them hit _harder_ and it felt _good_ to be used like that. Good to feel like he was _nothing_ , his worth only as high as he could spread his legs wide, and know that they didn't love him, because he certainly didn't feel like he deserved to be loved right now. 

The third swipe into subspace as the mech overloaded for what Jazz could tell was the last he was getting out of him brought just a few more credit pieces back and he pulled off the spike and stood. Three overloads' worth of transfluid ran down the insides of his legs and Jazz looked at the panting, recovering tank. "Thanks," he purred, before he heard noise behind him and saw six mecha approaching. 

"You the trick with the free 'faces?" one of them hissed when they were close. 

Jazz shrugged. "Unless there are two going around," he said, looking the group over, having already forgotten about the mech behind him. "All of you?" he grinned. "Won't that be a workout." 

"Oh, most definitely," the group leader, an unusually light mecha, some kind of racing frame femme, grinned and grabbed Jazz's arm. "Come on, we'll use you until you can't see straight."

She led him unprotestingly into the back room of a seedy looking club, dimly lit with a floor that might have been grimier than some of the alleys he'd been in, but Jazz still wasn't complaining. His inner thighs, chin, and throat were already caked with transfluid and probably worse, there was grime covering his knees, hands, arms, chest and back. 

Dirty, useless failure. 

"How?" he asked simply, directing the question at all of them.

"However we want, and when we're done with the, the entire club will want a turn or three," she grinned and tossed him on the sheet metal that passed for a berth. Her spike slid out, and it was large for her frame. Larger than Prowl's, though not the largest or cruelest he'd taken in the past few nights. As she got between his legs and thrust in, another of her crew grabbed his helm and press a textured spike designed to pleasure a lover into his mouth.

So no talking, then, but neither of them seemed to need any kind of motivation from him. He relaxed into it, cycling, swallowing, lifting his hips, rubbing with his glossa, and carefully moved his hands, feeling for the edges of their subspace, finding where he could slip into them when they overloaded. 

The femme's took a bit longer, but once she leaned down over him, he could reach. The spike in his mouth was closer to overloading, so he focused on that as she pounded in, and easily swiped the few credit sticks mecha tended to keep handy and something unfamiliar feeling that quickly disappeared into his own pockets even as the next member stepped up and pushed down his intake. 

Between his legs, the thrusts were speeding up and her panting moans were getting louder. "Shareware," she groaned. "Sweet shareware, this one."

Maybe it was the light in the room that made it easier to see his hands, maybe it was his unfamiliarity with typical femme builds, but when she shuddered and overloaded and he slipped his fingers in and then back out, holding a credit stick, he felt her hand suddenly tight around his wrist. 

"You said free, shareware," she hissed, slapping his wrist down on the metal sheet of a berth and digging sharp claws into it. "You want pay, you ask for it first."

The spike in his mouth was suddenly gone as she reached down and grabbed his chin, turning his face up towards her. Jazz hissed softly, then smirked at her. "Who said anything about pay?" he asked. "That was supposed to be theft." 

"Then you can find out what we do to thieves," she said simply. Her fingers reclaimed her credit stick as two mechs grabbed him to hold him still while she emptied his subspace, laying his haul of two orns of pick pocketing out next to him. "Even rather successful ones too."

Jazz glanced over the stack they'd taken from him uncaringly before he looked back at her. "Apparently not successful enough," he said with a shrug, then grinned. "Worth it still." 

"How is that?" she scowled. The credits went into her subspace, except for what he'd taken from her first mech, the other objects divided up. One of the mecha that was holding him let go, allowing the other to pull him to his pedes and hold his arms behind his back securely. Even with Jazz's military grade hydraulics and armor it would take some effort to get out of that grip.

"Because I can just tell that you have some notion of making me regret it or something," Jazz said, giving a testing pull against the hold, getting a feel for it, not that he was going to try to get away. He wondered if he hadn't hoped someone would catch him all along, because part of him was _thrilled_ right now. "And I am _so_ going to love seeing the look on your face when you fail." 

He was disappointed when she didn't seem angry, though the decidedly confused look was a good second option.

She shrugged and motioned to one of the mecha behind her. "Strutcrusher," she introduced the black and deep green bruiser of a truck when he came forward. "Shall we say one hit for each shannix he tried to take from us."

Strutcrusher nodded and came forward to land a hard punch to the lower edge of Jazz's chest plates. It wasn't enough to do more than scuff the heavy armor, but Jazz felt it, and felt that the mech had much more in him.

Jazz just tilted his head and looked at the mech, one optic ridge raised. 

The next blow came at full strength and bent Jazz's armor in, sending a small flurry of warnings to his HUD and pain slashing through his neural net for the first time in more than a vorn and a half.

" _Frag!_ " he gasped, prevented from doubling over by the hold on his arms. He shook his head once to clear it and gave a short, harsh laugh as he looked at the mech. "That tickled, sunshine, what's wrong?"

The answer came in the form of another full-strength blow, this one to the right of the first, following the line of his armor and building a row of serious dents in it. More warnings flashed across his HUD as his neural network _screamed_ at him to fight back, get away, anything to stop this.

"Nn--" He groaned, clearing out the warnings. "Well don't stop now," he gasped, and the next blow crushed plating and pushed him hard against the mech holding him. "Bet it would be even better if you spiked me at the same time," he said, voice catching and fritzing, and looked around the room. "Any of you have a decent spike, anyway?" 

The leader's optics widened and brightened in comprehension. "Strutcrusher. Stop." Her voice was calm. "He's a masochist. He gets off on pain." She walked up to Jazz and caught his chin. "So who was your master than you only started looking for a new one two orns ago?"

Jazz spat in her face. "Frag you," he hissed. "I don't have a master and I _don't_ get off on pain."

She slapped him hard enough to bruise the metal of his cheek, which was absolutely full strength for her. She wasn't built for fighting. She stepped back and motioned Strutcrusher forward. "Finish him."

The big mech lumbered forward and began the systematic punching to break down Jazz's frame once more. He wasn't creative, but he knew where to hit to make it hurt.

"What's--the matter?" Jazz gasped between blows, laughing when he wasn't groaning. "You're missing all the--" A hit made his optics and vocalizer short for a moment. "--good spots! Come on, there's a nerve cluster right below--"

Strutcrusher slammed into it and Jazz's vocalizer spat static before he rebooted it. 

"There!" he praised. "You do learn!" Another flickering gaze around the room. "Seriously, no one--nngh--no one thought of a knife up my valve?"

"That's torture, not a beating," the leader snapped at him, growing more disturbed by the moment.

"Then did I ever pick the wrong crowd," Jazz sneered at her, and then almost regretted it at the next punch that hurt enough for his frame to physically rip itself away from the mech behind him as he spasmed. 

Arms free and on the forward fall, Jazz caught himself and lunged, jabbing his hand right into Strutcrusher's open hip joint and striking the sensitive bearing inside in a hit that had his full force behind it, all of it pushed behind two fingers that met their target perfectly before he crumpled. The big truck yelped, startled and in pain as he went down. Jazz got one more strike in before the four remaining mechs lunged for him.

He was the better fighter of the lot, he knew that much, and he knew how to drop a mech better than any of them, but at four and a half to one he was pinned again almost immediately.

He jerked against them uselessly, pulling at the dents and injuries, hissing as it sent shocks of pain through him like he hadn't felt since before he'd been forcefully sparked. 

So long ago, before he'd brought two pieces of _him_ into the world. 

"The frag are you waiting for?" he yelled at Strutcrusher, then found the femme, optics narrowed, and twisted at the waist, snarling at the look on her face. "What's the matter?" he taunted, and then _sobbed_ into his next cry when Strutcrusher landed a very real, furious blow. 

"That is enough," came a new voice, one Jazz though he should know, and the blows stopped. There was a shuffling, low hissing words exchanged as his dazed systems reset and his optics worked to focus, and then the gang was gone. "Really Saxo, if you were looking to be punished, there are better ways to go about it."

Jazz groaned and finally managed to get his fritzing vision feeds to steady, then felt a sickening churn in his tanks when he realized who was standing over him. "Go away," he hissed, and rolled onto his side, pushing himself up on shaking arms.

"Why?" Radiance folded his arms across his chassis and watched Jazz struggle. "So you can get yourself killed? If you want to be _hurt_ and still be around when Pantera comes back, I can arrange for it."

Jazz stilled for a moment, then shook his head sharply, and immediately regretted it. "Oh sure," he said, hoarse with static. "Send a few thousand volts through me, hurts like Pit, clears right out, easy. Or _maybe_ if you have somewhat of an idea of what you're doing, you could hit all the pressure points in the hydraulic systems really well, you know, the ones that aren't the balance points but hurt _so_ much more than those do if you can find them. Sparkling play," he spat, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the fluid there.

"Not my specialty, but there are a couple mecha in my division that would dearly love to give breaking you down a try," Radiance said simply. "When you aren't out to hurt yourself, you could be one of the better ones, I expect."

"I _never_ wanted this," Jazz said as he managed to get up to his knees, panting, and sent a scathing look over at Radiance. "What the Pit are you doing here anyway?" 

"It hardly matters," Radiance's yellow visor was locked on Jazz. "I'm following a potential recruit. You've passed well enough to get a job offer."

"A what?" Jazz asked in a gasping laugh. "You've met me, right?" 

"Many times, as various things," Radiance nodded, his voice and gaze steady. "Saxo, mate of Pantera. What is so difficult to believe that you've earned a job offer?"

Jazz stared at him for a long moment, then looked back down as he tried to get up to his pedes. "Doing _what?_ There isn't much of a market for being a glitched, would-be creator."

"No, but there is a very specialized market for mecha who know how to _hurt_ without killing quickly," Radiance pointed out. "Pit, there's a market for mecha who just want to _be_ hurt. A damn good one. My interrogators need to keep their skills up and I'm sure you can teach them a thing or two."

"Sure I could," Jazz said, and got fully upright, touching his badly dented plating and wincing. "Not interested, thank you for your help, go away."

Radiance took a step forward instead, invading Jazz's personal space and caught just how mortified the mech was. He cocked his helm with a flash of light across his visor. "What is there to be embarrassed about?"

Jazz instantly pulled the embarrassment away from his field, cringing as he looked down at himself and all the filth he was covered in, carefully tracing the edges of the sharply buckled plating with one hand while he supported himself against the wall with the other. "What is there _not_ to be embarrassed about in this situation?" he shot back, gesturing at himself.

"You know how to handle pain, you know how to dish it out, you have excellent field control," Radiance began. "So you've got issues. I don't know anyone who doesn't." He took a step forward and placed a hand on Jazz's shoulder, a light touch meant to comfort. "What happened to you, before you came to Praxus?"

Jazz jerked away, but more out of instinct than any real desire not to be touched. "What is this, more pretending to care about me so I'll tell you about myself? Did you _ever_ care? What was it, 'Is it really so hard to believe I might be looking out for you because I like you?'"

"Liking you is a prerequisite for offering you a job," Radiance told him simply. "At first I was looking out for Pantera's mate. Then I was looking out for someone I like. Now I'm looking out for someone I like and think could do well in my field."

Jazz shifted uncomfortably, teeked the honesty there, and struggled with himself. "...Sorry," he finally muttered, optics fixed on the wall. "Didn't mean that."

"Someone trained you not to trust very well," Radiance said gently. "Come. A medic should see to some of those injuries soon."

Jazz's arm shot up over his chest. "Rather not."

"What's wrong with your spark that you don't want a medic?" Radiance tensed, immediately going to the thought that Jazz was carrying again and didn't want the medic to know and try to save the newspark.

"Nothing," Jazz said, unconvincingly. "Just...don't like anyone but Pantera..."

"That is natural, but you need medical care," Radiance insisted, his tone just short of a plea. "We don't need to go to a hospital. I know mecha who understand that nothing gets reported. Ever."

Jazz looked at him. "Tell me you would trust any of them with your _life_ or I'm not going with you."

"Two of them," Radiance didn't even hesitate. "Whoever you're running from Will Not Find Out."

"...All right," Jazz said, then shook his head. "Pantera's going to kill me," he sighed. 

"He doesn't need to know," Radiance offered as he led Jazz out. "He won't find out from me."

"Thank you," Jazz said quietly, trying not to limp too obviously as they walked.

* * *

Jazz was most of the way into recharge, huddled up in the back doorway of a business that he'd kicked the previous occupant out of with a single growl, when a sharp tap in the middle of his helm startled him back online. His optics booted and the blaster he'd been holding in his subspace was out and armed in an instant, but before he could move, his wrist was grabbed and pinned against his chassis. 

Jazz focused, and then frowned at the golden-visored mech above him. "Trying to recharge." 

"You're not recharging here, that's for sure," Radiance said, and pulled him up. 

"I'm not going into that apartment until Pantera is back," Jazz informed him. 

"Then you're coming to mine," Radiance informed him right back with a tone and teek that would take no backtalk.

Jazz huffed. "Fine," he said, then smirked. "Hope this isn't a plan to get me overcharged and have your way with me." 

"I doubt I'd have to be so sneaky about it," Radiance smirked back and let Jazz go. "Have you fueled yet?"

"Ah, no," Jazz said, shrugging. "That femme got my cubes when she emptied me out."

A cube appeared and was handed over before Radiance lead the way out of the ally. "Drink that, then a washrack, then you can crash in my spare room."

Jazz followed in silence for a few kliks, then offered a brief, "Thanks," and half a smile. "I'm fine out here, you don't have to."

"What kind of friend leaves you to recharge in an ally?" Radiance huffed. "Seriously mech, you really haven't had a _friend_ before, have you?"

Jazz hummed softly as he finished the cube and handed it back. "Um... there were the mecha I hung out with to keep tabs on?" he almost asked. "And age-mates as a youngling? Pretty sure those count."

"Only if they'd help you without wanting anything in return," Radiance pointed out. "You're badly out of practice at having a friend. Pantera's been your only company for too long, I think."

"Probably," Jazz admitted, then smiled in that happy, delirious way he tended to when he thought about Prowl. "Mm, but _what_ company."

"Yes, I'm sure he is," Radiance's look softened, warmed as he always was when faced with a mecha that looked like that when thinking of their lover. "Tell me about him, why you love him so much?"

"Mm, he's just... he's so..." Jazz hummed happily. "He's so smart, and his voice, and he understands me, and he'd do anything for me, and I'd give my spark for him. He's patient with me, he listens, no one else ever did that."

"He sounds amazing," Radiance smiled as they walked to a local washrack. It was simple and limited, but all they were going for was to clean the fluids and grime from Jazz's frame, not polish him up. "How'd you meet up? I want a mech like that."

Jazz quirked a smile back at him. "You don't remember the three dozen times we retold that story when I visited with the sparklings?"

"Oh, I heard. But there must be more to it than that." Radiance grinned at him. "What clicked first? Was it that first 'face, his personality, did he stand up for you against somebody ... rescue you?"

Jazz smiled to himself. "You could say that," he said. "It was..." He gestured aimlessly with his hand, trying to explain. "When he spoke to me, and then when he listened, I felt like I _mattered._ Everyone else, it felt like I was a possession, or too fragile to handle anything important. Or too young." 

Radiance smiled and let Jazz ramble on about his love, only occasionally prompting more gushy sweetness as they got cleaned up and then headed for Radiance's apartment. It was a simple three room flat, but nicely appointed and comfortable with art and padding of a mech that earned more than even the SWAT commander did.

"Very nice," Jazz purred appreciatively, looking around, then looked back at Radiance. "And you've never found anyone to share it with you?" 

"Not for long," he shook his helm as he watched Jazz check out the small living room with its notable lack of a vid screen but with seating for a dozen, if they were very friendly. "Several that thought they did, one that I honestly believed would work out, but no one stayed for long after they realized what being my mate actually meant. Long, unpredictable joors, not being able to talk about my work most of the time, watching me grieve over mecha they'd never met, the hospital time and minor damage I come home with at random. It's a lot of stress for most to take."

"I'm sorry," Jazz said quietly. "I can't offer a mate, but I can offer a friend, I think, if I'm not too out of practice at it."

"Thank you," Radiance smiled warmly. "That one's my room," he motioned to the door on the right side of the living room. "The guest room is that one," he pointed to the left.

"Thanks," Jazz said. "I think, I'd just like to recharge, if that's all right?"

"That's what I was expecting," Radiance put a comforting hand on Jazz's shoulder. "Recharge well. I'll be in my room if you need anything."

Jazz nodded, thanked him again, and went to lay down in the guest room, weary and just wanting to rest. 

He cycled down, finding it almost harder to relax here than it had been in the alley. In a berth, it was harder to forget Prowl's absence and not think about why he wasn't there. But eventually, finally, _mercifully_ , his systems managed to slip offline. 

* * *

When Jazz started to boot, he was relaxed and comfortable, warm, feeling so much better than he had when he'd gone offline. Sensors kicked in and for a moment, he thought Prowl was with him, but the field was different. His optics flickered online and he carefully took stock of his frame, realizing he was cuddled up close against Radiance.

"Morning," Radiance murmured and moved his arms from where they were wrapped around Jazz when he twitched slightly. "Rest well?"

"Yes," Jazz said, surprised when he saw just how well. Based on what he could remember right before going offline, he didn't think it should have been that effective of a recharge. "Um," he added, glancing around them and seeing only the simple but comfortable guest room he'd gone to recharge in. "Morning."

"You couldn't settle," Radiance explained as he smoothly got up. "I figured you weren't used to recharging alone. You settled as soon as I relaxed against you."

"Ah," Jazz said as he sat upright. "Yeah it's...been a while. Harder than I thought. D'you have work, or?"

"In a couple more joors," Radiance stretched, flaring his doorwings and settling armor. "You're welcome to stay here until your shift, and tonight, if you'd like."

Jazz couldn't keep his appreciative hum down as he watched his companion. "Since if I'm not here I'm finding the softest bit of gutter I can, and I think you might actually drag me back by force if I try that, I'll just say thank you now," Jazz said, smiling.

"You're damn right I'll drag you back," Radiance grinned at him despite the serious tone to the promise. "I like you too much to let you recharge in a gutter. There's a nice cafe in the complex if you want to get breakfast and a credit stick filled from your account."

"Yeah," Jazz said, stretching out. "That'd be good. Coming with?"

"Unless you don't want me at the table," Radiance nodded. "I need to refuel before shift."

"I'd take you _on_ a table," Jazz purred, standing and ignoring the mildly startled he got. "Lead the way."

* * *

When Jazz got off work later that night, he was unsurprised to find Radiance waiting outside for him, and just rolled his optics in mock exaggeration as they started walking towards the road. 

"Didn't want to come watch me dance?" Jazz teased. 

"Would have, but it wouldn't have been worth the door fee for the all of five kliks I would have been there," Radiance explained, then laughed at the _look_ Jazz gave him. "All right, so it would have been, but I would have felt ridiculous. Is that better?" 

"That's better," Jazz said. "Late at work?" 

"Yeah," Radiance sighed. "Some freak with this...thing..." He waved his hand and grimaced. "There's that thing where I can't always talk about work again. I promise you don't want to know, even if I could tell you." 

"I don't mind," Jazz said truthfully. "I've had enough of the gruesome and disturbing for one lifetime."

"So have I, for several lifetimes, but I keep going back," he chuckled and shook his helm. "Much as I grouse and grumble, I love my function. It's a wonderful thing when your spark enjoys what you do."

Jazz's optics flickered briefly. "...Yeah," he agreed, then shrugged, transformed, and followed Radiance back to his apartment, where he leaned against a wall, taking another look around, paying more attention to the details this time, finding he immensely enjoyed the way the other mech had arranged his living spaces. 

"So..." he said, when Radiance had finished filling out a datapad and subspaced it again. "Guestroom or your room?" he asked, hoping there would be no objection, since he really didn't want to recharge alone. 

"Guestroom," Radiance said firmly. "I'll recharge with you," he stepped into Jazz's personal space a bit and stroked his jaw line lightly. "My room is for a lover. The guest room is for friends."

Jazz couldn't keep his vents from catching. "If you'd like..." he murmured, and mirrored the touch, before his hand started trail down Radiance's neck while his other came forward to brush over his pelvis. "I could do a better job of thanking you." His gaze flickered down for a moment, then lifted back up. "I'm good with my mouth."

Arousal and desire flared, leaving no doubt he wanted it, yet the dark mech shook his helm. "Much as I'd enjoy that, much as I'd like it, your mate should be home tomorrow. I'd rather have your attentions when you aren't hurting and lonely, if you still wish it then."

The genuinely startled look he got in response told him Jazz hadn't even considered that he might turn his offer down.

"But..." Jazz said, while his touch on the neck turned into a careful stroke, and his wandering fingers moved further in, exploring. "I don't have any other way to thank you, not for all this."

"You have thanked me," Radiance drew in a steadying breath and gently caught Jazz's hand before it could slide over his spike cover. "You don't need to do this, or anything else. Friends help each other, Saxo. You needed a place to stay and a field to help you rest. I could easily provide it. That's all. I ... you're a very attractive mech, very desirable, but it shouldn't be because you feel obliged."

Jazz frowned at him. "I don't feel obliged," he said, and physically stepped back, breaking the closeness Radiance had created. "Obliged is not being able to say no even if I wanted to. It was just an offer. Fine if you don't want to," he said, shrugging stiffly. 

Radiance let out a low vent of relief that his tenuous grip on his will hadn't been pushed further. "Good," his voice remained soft even as he frowned slightly. "Not being able to say no even if you wanted to is rape," he said slowly, but when the look on Jazz's face darkened dangerously, he held his hands up in apology. "Not a good place to go, then," he surmised, and glanced around, then smiled. "Ever played Sovereign?" he asked easily, motioning towards the strategy game he kept out on a table in the middle of the lounges. 

Jazz glanced over at it. "I haven't," he said, and there was definitely an interested perk there as he looked the pieces over. 

"I think you would enjoy it, and I bet Pantera would too," Radiance said, and put a warm hand on Jazz's back, guiding him over. "Come on, I'll teach you. It is way too early for recharge." 

"Mech of the night, I see," Jazz said warmly, slipping easily back into their easy familiarity. "I'm sure that will come in useful."

"Long habit," Radiance grinned and set up the game board and databurst the rules and tactics packet to jazz. "Most criminals recharge during the morning, so I do too. What do you enjoy doing in your down time?"

"I practice a lot," Jazz said, watching the dark hands move for a few moments before he looked up with a grin. "If I tell you I taught myself how to hack locks and surveillance systems once will you put me in handcuffs?"

Radiance barked a laugh. "I'd promote you, if you were one of mine."

"I think I would prefer handcuffs," Jazz said easily, focusing back on the board. "Only if it was you doing the cuffing, though. If it was Mortar you could forget it." 

"And if Pantera was in the room too?" Radiance's tone dropped to a purr. "Who'd you want doing what?"

"You have no idea how mean that question is," Jazz said, grinning. "So many choices, and we love power play. I think..." he said, as Radiance finished setting the pieces up and moved his hand away. "I'd want to be cuffed to the berth while he rode me," he said, completely unabashed. "And as for _you_...I want to give my glossa a workout on you." 

"Sounds like fun," Radiance purred. "But why is it mean? We could have plenty of opportunities to explore every option we find appealing."

"Mean to make me think of just one and choose," Jazz said. "Have to cut out a couple dozen other scenarios. It gets way more interesting with a third."

"And so much more natural," Radiance added with a knowing wink of his visor. "Nothing settles the spark quite like a good triad."

"I've seen so many triads since we moved here," Jazz said. "It's kind of amazing. Bet that makes Praxians really good at thinking if ideas for three."

"That we are," he nodded, giving Jazz a curious look. "Is Pantera Praxian?"

"Mhmm," Jazz hummed, then glanced at him. "That's how I was able to get in for citizenship so quickly."

"Whoever did your cosmetic work did an excellent job," Radiance smiled and moved a piece, not really paying that much attention to the game. "Are your doorwings fully wired?"

Jazz glanced over his shoulder as he flexed them. "Yes, though they don't have quite the same motion sensing capacity, I don't think." He gave an embarrassed grin. "I ran into a lot of things with them. My frame is...mm," he shook his head, skimming the rules again as he tried to decide what to move in response. " _Was_ much smaller than this one."

"You're an excellent natural actor then," Radiance smiled as he watched Jazz. "It's usually much easier to pick up outsiders."

Jazz's answering smile was wry. "I wouldn't be alive if I wasn't a good actor," he said, deciding on his move and looking back up.

"Why?" Radiance couldn't pass up such a blatant opening to prod at the pair's past. He knew they weren't who they said they were, but he hadn't turned up a clue about who they really were.

"Oh," Jazz shrugged. "That's a long, depressing story. You don't want to hear that one."

Radiance hummed and focused on the game for a while, allowing the mood to settle. "As a friend, maybe I do want to know. Maybe I can help. I have friends and contacts that owe me in every city."

Jazz moved a piece, silent for a while, then when he finally spoke, the words were careful. "I would bet you know more than you think you do. I'm not sure what's going to happen now, without the sparklings, but if things change, Pantera and I may take you up on that."

Radiance nodded and allowed the subject to drop. He'd made progress. That was all he needed for one orn. "Do you like to go dancing at clubs? Not on the stage, but just for fun."

"Never been," Jazz said. "Always kinda wanted to go to one. They look fun. I liked watching from stage, at least."

"Maybe we can go out sometime, or Pantera will take you out, if you ask," he suggested. "I do enjoy clubbing. What about racing?"

"I'm not sure Pantera would enjoy that," Jazz said, then huffed. "Never raced, either. Primus. The sparklings liked to go to the tracks and watch, that's as much as I've done that." He looked up. "You race?"

"Every chance I get, Enforcer and civilian tracks," Radiance chuckled to himself. "I do a _lot_ better on the Enforcer tracks. Not nearly so many racing alts on it. Keeps my pursuit skills up and burns off a lot of frustration."

"I'd think you'd get more pursuit practice on a civilian track," Jazz teased. "More likely to chase a civilian racing frame than another Enforcer." 

"Anything that much faster than I am doesn't get pursued the way races are run," Radiance chuckled. "Either a race frame takes over, or I use SWAT on it in the real world. I'd kinda get in trouble using SWAT on a race track. But something close to my own speed, I can test myself, and practice actual driving skills against someone who was trained for pursuit."

"I should go see what all the fuss is about some orn," Jazz said, frowning at the pieces on the board. "I keep hearing about how great Praxian race tracks are, feel like I should take advantage of that." He moved his piece and chuckled. "And I should _definitely_ take advantage of this affinity you Praxians seem to have for threesomes."

"I have no doubt there will be any number of eager volunteers for that," Radiance winked his visor. "Don't miss out on the gardens either. The Helix Gardens are the tourist attraction, and you really should see them once, but the local parks and public gardens are where the real local beauty and style are."

"You're from here, right?" Jazz asked as Radiance moved his piece. "You said you always wanted to do SWAT, so you grew up in this city?"

"Yes, sparked for a Praxian triad and raised here," he nodded. "Praxus is home. Do you like it here?"

"I do, very comfortable gutters," Jazz said jokingly, then at the raised-optic ridge look he got, chuckled. "Yes, I like it here. It might take a few vorns, but it'll be home. Especially once I get enough put away to decorate our place a little." He shivered happily at the idea, the motion going right out to his doorwings. "The artwork you chose in here is beautiful, by the way, did you do this all yourself?" He gestured around to the room and everything in it. 

"The decorating, yes," Radiance smiled at the praise. "The art isn't my work. I'm artistically challenged when it comes to putting an image down, but I can look at something and know where it should go to look good. I can point you to places to get reasonably priced reproductions, if you aren't set on originals. Some good galleries that aren't too snooty too, if you like looking."

"Mm, definitely," Jazz said, and frowned at Radiance's move. "You said sparked, you weren't kindled?" he asked, partially stalling for time but mostly curious to know everything he could about this mech.

"No, but I was created in a sparkling frame and code," Radiance shook his helm. "I didn't have much more directive coding than kindled sparklings." He cocked his helm and hummed. "Less than a lot of sparklings that come from families with strong function ties. My creators were determined that I decide what I wanted to be to the point of trying to dissuade me from following their function path. Not that it did them much good, but they tried, and I respect them all the more for it now."

"They were Enforcers too, then," Jazz surmised with a grin. "I always knew exactly what I was supposed to be, there wasn't any choice in it. Your creators, are they still working? Have I met any of them?"

"Yes, they're still working, though you haven't met any of them. It's traditional to keep creations out of the precinct their creators work in. I'm of rank that it isn't an issue anymore, but I like where I am, and they like where they are. Mira and Brava are patrol and Contact's dispatch. All three were contracted by the city."

Jazz nodded. "That makes sense." He paused for a moment, frowning thoughtfully. "Do _all_ Praxians form triads?"

Radiance shook his helm. "Not all, but it's a fairly strong desire for most, at least for those who are all Praxian. We come from Seekers, and though we can't fly anymore, a lot of coding stuck. Aesthetics, social structure, pairing by threes or more rarely fives. Even the Praxian dialect is still audibly related to Vosian, and the wing language is too. They can understand us fairly well, and we them, even if we don't share a common language anymore."

"Pantera hasn't mentioned anything about it," Jazz murmured, almost to himself, gazing at the board without really looking at it. "Though life hasn't exactly been calm and settled lately."

"If he has the coding to want a triad, it would be very unusual to try for a third before you're steady and stable," Radiance said easily. "Unless it's some kind of spark resonance or someone he wants tries to court him ... which is rude, by the way, to try and court a mech before their first mate is settled ... I wouldn't expect him to bring it up for centuries yet. It's okay to drop hints that you like him, flirt a bit, but only enough that he knows you'd like a chance when he's ready."

Jazz's gaze flickered up to the visored mech for a moment, a small smile on his lips. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, then gestured at the board. "I think you're kicking my aft here, but I'm honestly not entirely sure."

The Praxian chuckled. "Rather solidly. You did well for your first game though." He moved a piece. "Now if _you_ find someone you want as a third, it's simpler, since he's the more settled one. You still don't want to court anyone without his permission, just like he shouldn't court or accept being courted without yours." He paused and regarded Jazz evenly for a long moment. "How do you feel about sharing him?"

"For 'facing, fine," Jazz said. "Neither of us is possessive like that. I don't think I'd ever be able to be with someone who was possessive about my frame," he said wryly. "For something like courting...obviously I'd have to like the mech, but so long as I did..." He hummed and shuttered his optics for a moment, smiling. "I _do_ love watching him getting 'faced," he purred.

"What gets you revved up the hottest?" Radiance leaned forward, his tone low and playfully hungry. "He is a looker, but you know that."

"Mhmm," Jazz hummed in agreement. "But it's his voice that really gets me, hearing him in pleasure. Just..." He shivered again. "That _voice_. Anything that gets him moaning." 

"I bet that made you both popular and unpopular before you could afford a place with good soundproofing," Radiance chuckled. "He does have a nice voice, though I think what I find most appealing is his carriage. His movement is smooth, he never slouches or is lazy with his doorwings, he's utterly commanding in that quiet way that's so rare. Like he was sparked to command and doesn't need to be loud to assert himself. He knows what he is and doesn't need to prove it. He's got that really sexy chevron above his interface panel too. It's so easy to imagine kissing my way down, following that direction."

Jazz's optics brightened and fixed on Radiance, game suddenly almost completely forgotten. "And he would love that," he purred. "He gets all gaspy and shivery. And he stays commanding, too, barely has to touch or instruct for you to know what he wants from you. Like you're just there for his pleasure. Would you like that?" he asked, voice low. 

"As long as that's not what it always is," Radiance let his engine rumble. "I'm not much on having a set role. Much as I enjoy a mech who knows what he wants, I like being the one in charge too. I like going real slow at times, drawing the pleasure out for a joor or more before finally sinking into my lover. Other times I like it fast and hard with an overload that rushes up on you so heavy you can barely feel it coming before it knocks you out."

"He can provide both of those," Jazz purred. "I'll admit we have a tendency towards the hard and fast, but we're working on it," he grinned. "Maybe with a steady hand to help out. It's sexy as all Pit to get him all spread out and tease him until he's begging."

"I bet it is," Radiance rumbled eagerly before throttling himself back. "You've got one incredible mate. Are you as much a switch as he is?"

Jazz hummed in affirmative. "Though it took a while for him to bring that out. And I'm guessing you are too." He grinned. "Or maybe I'm just hoping you are." 

"Oh, I am," Radiance chuckled. "This the first time he's been away for more than a shift?"

Jazz paused for a moment. "...Yeah," he said, wings lowering slightly, and he grimaced. "Trying not to think about why, yeah?"

"Yeah," Radiance reached out to grip his shoulder, his field rich with non-judging support. "Why doesn't matter. You don't much know what to do with yourself when he's not there. Do you ever go to recharge without a good overload?"

"Didn't used to," Jazz said, looking at the game board, and flicked his last remaining piece just hard enough for it to topple. "Since all this started...more often than not. ...Do you? I mean, not that..." He shifted awkwardly. "Never mind."

"I don't have a lover often," Radiance answered easily. "Even when I do, I'm too worn out to play as often as not. Comes with the territory and part of why it's hard being an Enforcer's mate. But just because I'm not going to 'face you doesn't mean you have to do without the overload."

Jazz thought about that for a moment, then smiled and rose to his pedes, slowly and carefully stretching his arms up over his head and rolling his neck before grinning at the darker mech. "Sure you want to go through the agony of having to look but not touch?" he purred. "Or listen, for that matter?"

"Go ahead, pretty," Radiance grinned up at him before he stood. "Might want to get close to your berth though, so you can drop when you're done. I'll be waiting there," he gave Jazz a visored wink.

"Why don't you tell me what _you_ would do if Pantera was here with a pair of handcuffs," Jazz said as he brushed past the older mech, purposefully close and with purring engines. "Be a friend, help a mech out, you know."

Radiance laughed in good humor and followed. He flopped down on the berth and grinned at Jazz, who stayed standing. "So many choices. I think I'd begin with cuffing his hands up by his neck so he can't touch and settle him sitting on the berth in front of me. Right where you are, I'd tell you to dance, the kind you can't get away with in the club."

Jazz hummed and let his wings quiver as he stretched once more, but this time, ended the motion by running his hands down the front of his frame, settling them over his pelvis. "The kind like so," he purred, optics dimming as he imagined the scene and slid his spike cover away, brushing fingers over the housing and teasing at it in slow circles until it spiraled open. "Are you a switch when it comes to your equipment, too, or just with control?"

"Very much with my equipment and positions," Radiance purred from where he was lounging, watching Jazz with rapt interest but no inclination to touch himself. "If it feels good and it's legal, I'm for it. I'm sure I can feel Pantera get revved up by now. Surely he's gotten the gist of my plans, smart mech that he is. So while you show off for us, I touch him. Just light exploratory at first, but as I find more sweet spots he beings to moan."

Jazz's engines have a hard, predictable rev at the thought of Prowl's pleasured moans and he let his helm fall back for a moment, rolling it in time with an inaudible rhythm, intensely aware of the bright, glittering visor. "He really likes the third joint down on his back strut," he purred, swirling his thumb around the tip of his spike as it started to pressurize. "Everything else you'll have to find on your own."

"And I'll enjoy the process," Radiance promised with a low, sultry tone. "I make sure he keeps watching you, though I doubt I'll have to check often. I'm sure he's fixated on you. He always is."

"Mhmm," Jazz hummed, backing up so he could lean against the wall, fingers dancing along the length of his spike, coaxing it out, running his fingers around each segment as he extended into the slow strokes. "And after you're done teasing him? After he's gasping and straining and desperate from watching me, and your touches?"

"That depends on how well finished you are," Radiance grinned, his optics taking in the very unusual ruffled spike. "But I think I'd shift him fully into my lap so I can feel that wet valve, so eager to be filled, and beckon you over to kneel and put that mouth to good use on his spike. Then have a little race to see who can overload him first."

Jazz gave a gasping laugh. "I'd win," he informed the other mech, then groaned as his hips pushed forward into his loose fingers. "Nnn...absolutely I'd win, I'd swallow him completely, make him scream and overload around you." 

"I don't doubt it," Radiance chuckled. "And it'd feel amazing. I bet he's so hot and tight, and his overload's intense, knowing how much it gets you off to drive him there."

Jazz nodded, panting lightly. "And once he was all strutless between us I'd pull him off and swallow you next, taste his overload on you, give you the little push you needed to spill down my intake..." He moaned, grip tightening, optics flickering off and mouth falling open. 

"Hot as I am, and fresh from doming Pantera, I'd grip your helm as I overload, thrusting because I know you can take it," Radiance's rumble deepened as his arousal built. "When I can unlatch my hands I'd spread myself for you, eager to feel your overload while I pull Pantera in for a kiss."

The heavy, stuttering panting came faster and vents kicked up a notch, catching on the sharp intakes and shivering with the rest of Jazz's frame. "Wouldn't...take me long, not after that," he gasped. "You know I've never...actually...been in anyone but Pantera," he managed, and whined softly as he imagined it, rubbing his length against his palm. "Love to feel him in me while I spiked you." 

"I'm sure he'd indulge you for no other reason, grabbing your hips and driving into you, eager to feel your overload as we both work you hard, a reward for the show and for being with us," Radiance said, sure of himself. "I want to do that, to feel you between us. To be between you. To have Pantera between us. To watch you make love to him. To have you watch as I made love to him. To make love to you while he watches and talks to you the entire time."

Jazz's helm slammed back and he gave a sharp cry, unable to hold off his overload any longer at the last image, bucking into his hand and shaking as the charge rushed through him, sizzling beneath his plating and sending bright, crackling arcs through the seams. He slumped as it dissipated into the air, shivering and panting, and slowly released his grip on his spike, optics online again, dim and sated for the first time in orns. 

"I think that did almost as much good as the energon," Radiance hummed with a friendly smile when Jazz's optics could focus once more.

"Possibly more," Jazz murmured, shuddering as his spike slipped away and the cover slid back. He managed the few steps it took to get to the berth and all but collapsed, stretching out next to Radiance. "'S been a while." 

"And you have a very high interface drive," the Praxian said as he relaxed, unconcerned about the mess on the floor or the ozone still leeching from the frame next to him. "Recharge well, Saxo."

"Mmhm," Jazz hummed, curling next to the dark mech, flaring his field gratefully out to mesh comfortably with the other. "You too, thank you," he murmured, and slipped immediately offline.


	25. Home Again

Jazz couldn't drive home fast enough after his shift, with only the fact that he knew who was patrolling in this area tonight keeping him under the posted limit. Prowl had commed about a joor after he'd left for the club, right about when he'd started to get worried, to let him know that he was safely home, and Jazz was burning to feel his lover's field against his. They hadn't been apart this long, not really, since his adult upgrades. 

"Pantera?" he asked as soon as he opened the door and stepped in, an uncomfortable mix of excited and worried as he nearly walked right into his lover. Strong arms closed around him and a kiss found his mouth, as warm and hungry as the field that wrapped around him. 

The door closed behind him but Jazz was lost to everything but knowing Prowl was there and wanted him. He shuddered and moaned into the kiss, arms wrapping up around Prowl's shoulders and holding him just as tightly, _relief-love-want_ flooding his field.

When the kiss finally broke Prowl nuzzled him. "I'm glad you managed to keep yourself up while I was away."

"Not...entirely by my own will," Jazz said, fingers brushing lightly over Prowl's dataport. "We should talk. Are you all right, first?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Prowl flushed his certainty across their fields and drew Jazz towards the berthroom. "I will miss them greatly for a few more orns, then less each orn. Within a decaorn and a half I should be no more distressed than I am about the others."

"All right," Jazz said, nuzzling, and moved easily onto their berth, never losing contact with Prowl as they settled down together. "I'm here, for whatever you need, you know that."

"Yes," Prowl kissed him softly. "As I am here for you, love." He spiraled his dataport open, offering to let Jazz control the connection.

Jazz took a deep intake, cycled it through, and plugged in. He'd already decided he was going to share the last five orns, completely. He didn't keep secrets from his mate, he never had, he never would. 

Although, he wasn't about to go fessing up to the stolen high grade as a mechling, but the knowing smile that went over Prowl's features told him first that the thought had been heard, and second that his lover wasn't at all surprised. ~You knew about that!~ Jazz accused, playfully hitting his shoulder. 

~I did tell you that you were never out of my sight after you hid in the cybercat's den,~ Prowl chuckled softly as they settled in a comfortable embrace on the berth. ~Now, what happened that was so interesting?~

~Great, that means you saw my very embarrassing first attempts at getting overcharged,~ Jazz grumbled, stalling a little. Just because he didn't keep secrets from Prowl didn't mean he was excited about showing him this. He felt the concerned brush over the hardline and looked up into the beloved ice blue optics, sighed, and touched their helms together. ~I think it's easier if I just let you watch,~ he said, and pulled up the memory starting from when he'd left their apartment that first night to wander the streets.

He felt Prowl skim more than watch, catching the emotions, focused on the why rather than the actions. It was only when he reached the scene from the previous night when Jazz had jerked off to Radiance's words that the playback was slowed down and watched in hungry detail.

Prowl took another klik to process it all, order and sort it to keep the pertinent data and focused on one thing.

~You like him?~

Jazz didn't hide his surprised flicker that that was the first question asked. ~Yes... maybe. He... didn't use me. I straight up offered and he turned me down even though I could _feel_ how much he wanted me. And... he probably saved my life. I know I want to get to know him better.~

~Then we will, out of the berth, before we invite him in,~ Prowl murmured. ~I think I like him too, but you're the one he really wants. Have you thought about the job offer?~

~A little,~ Jazz said. ~I still haven't asked him exactly what it would _be_ and I think he's waiting until I go to him. There's part of me-- Sometimes I miss--~ The thought faltered, the datastream stammered, as Jazz tried to confess that he missed _causing pain_ , that he'd learned to love it beyond the construct and pleasing their tormenter.

Prowl's hands stroked him, soothing, calm, accepting, waiting, even though he already knew and understood. ~We are what we are, my love.~

It took him many kliks, but Prowl was patient while Jazz grappled with the thought. ~I miss the pain,~ he finally said, very suddenly. ~Causing it. Taking those mecha who would have rather you perished than lose their own lives and making them _hurt_ for it.~

A simple nod and hum of understanding greeted the statement. ~Given what Radiance said, and didn't say, I can guess at what he wants you to do. None of it's remotely legal.~

~But he's an Enforcer,~ Jazz said. 

~He's SWAT,~ Prowl corrected, though he wasn't completely sure of the connections he was making. ~Barely one step away from ISO. What they get to do, what they can do, isn't always legal for anyone else.~

Jazz hummed quietly. ~More lucrative than dancing, though likely more dangerous at the same time. Though...there's an appeal. Beyond just getting to know Radiance better.~

~Longer, stranger joors. Between yours and mine if ... we might not see each other some orns.~ Prowl added. ~But he could indulge you in ways I can't.~

~Maybe the work could, I don't think there's anything he could do personally that you do not already satisfy entirely,~ Jazz said. 

A warm kiss greeted that declaration. ~Perhaps, but you did think his ideas were worth exploring, and I won't deny he was right about my social coding.~

~That you find the idea of a triad appealing,~ Jazz said, cuddling purringly up to his mate and pressing back into the kiss. ~And how could I not find his ideas worth exploring? They were slagging hot ideas.~

~Only if you like both mecha involved,~ Prowl chuckled as his touched became more enticing. ~Which we do. We can invite him to dinner once I've been thoroughly welcomed home in a couple orns.~

Jazz mirrored the touches for a moment, then swung his leg over Prowl's hip and pushed, moving smoothly up and over him, settling into a comfortable, familiar straddle. ~He made a point of telling me it would be rude for him to court me,~ he said. ~And that he would expect centuries. We don't need to rush. Especially when we don't know if we'll _be_ here in a century.~ He nipped at Prowl's lower lip and ground their hips together, baring his valve right over his lover's spike cover. ~Dinner sounds nice though.~

~Agreed,~ Prowl moaned and allowed his spike to slide free, smoothly penetrating and spreading the perfectly positioned and slick valve. ~My apologies I wasn't shocked by what you did while I was away. I was expecting it.~

Jazz shuddered and gave a harsh x-vent as his valve clenched down around the familiar, welcome intrusion, bracing himself with his hands on Prowl's shoulders. ~I was expecting you to be angry,~ he admitted, rocking slowly. ~Knowing you expected it almost makes it worse in a way. Mmm,~ he hummed, frame _thrumming_ with the slow pleasure. ~Want you to know, I have no desire to be courting or courted right now, nor for a long time. But a visitor to our berth, when we're ready, would be welcome.~

~Agreed,~ Prowl moaned as he pulled his hips down and drove back up. ~You feel so good. I missed this so much.~

~Missed _you_ ,~ Jazz whispered, and stopped thinking about anything other than the feel of his mate's frame below him and inside him, his field surrounding him and tangling with his own.

* * *

Radiance was utterly giddy, not that he was showing it. He'd never expected an invitation to dinner so quickly. Barely a decaorn after Prowl's return he was talking to the pair socially over dinner. Small talk, trading little tidbits about life and experiences and trying not to give too much away. As frustrating as the pair were about giving up a single designation not in their official records, Radiance had to applaud their ability to pull it off. Of course it helped that over dinner Prowl did almost all the talking. Jazz would chime in now and then, but it was mostly the smarter, more organized mech who spoke.

By the time three sweet pastries were set out, Radiance had begun to reassess just which one he wanted the most. He knew Jazz was more valuable for the darker work that was hard to find mecha for, but Prowl had a processor that just floored him, and that was even with the mech actively trying to hide exactly how powerful it was. If Prowl hadn't been so well adjusted and adaptable to new situations and environments, Radiance would have suspected him for a pre-prog, and he still hadn't quite made up his mind on that point. 

"I know you met in Simfur," he said. "And started out in Praxus, but where between those two? You can't tell me you just decided to leave _this_ city for that hole in the ground."

Prowl chuckled before nibbling on a pastry, taking his time to organize the answer he didn't need any time to organize. "There isn't a city I haven't lived in, at least briefly. Some, like Iacon, Crystal City and Vos I would happy return to for a time. Others, not so much."

"Like Simfur," Jazz added, smiling wryly, gaze on his mate. 

"And Kaon," Prowl's doorwings shuddered in remembered distaste. "The gladiator culture there is too much for my tanks."

"Well-traveled," Radiance remarked. "And I know it's pointless asking _you_ what you were doing there," he said, optics flicking over to Jazz for a moment, smirking, getting the expression mirrored back at him, "But what about you?" He looked back at Prowl. "Follow someone there?" 

"Running from someone," Prowl murmured, dropping his optics and doorwings tucked against his back.

Radiance's optics flicked off in a quick cycle and he cocked his head, frowning. "I'm sorry," he said, intensely aware of the dark, focused warning that Jazz was giving with his optics, field, and wing language, though his own gaze stayed on Prowl. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Saxo, I have friends and favors to pull in every city. I'm always ready to help a friend, or trade a favor." 

"A favor like what?" Jazz asked smoothly, frame relaxing again as he lifted his high grade. Prowl was settling as well, though focused on the sweet treat in his hand.

Radiance gave a half-grin. "You know what I'm interested in," he said, looking between the two. "Possibly more, now." 

"I'll trade a favor for a favor," Prowl said clearly, his full focus sharp and manner all business. "But no favor is worth committing to a function that carries its own criminal charges."

"Who said anything about criminal charges?" Radiance asked, all innocent surprise. 

Prowl snorted. "I've read the reports you submit, remember? It doesn't take a light-matrix quad processor to work out what isn't in them."

"Well, there's a difference between _technically_ illegal proceedings and criminal charges," Radiance said, casually sipping at his high grade and leaning back. "No one's getting charged with anything. What we--they, I should say--do is known and sanctioned by anyone who has the power to press charges." 

"Why is it 'they' and not 'we' all of a sudden?" Jazz asked. 

Radiance hummed. "I'm chief of SWAT, which takes up more than enough of my time, the other gig is purely recruitment. I have a knack for picking out the good ones," he added with a wink. "My job is to send them over, nothing more. Well, maybe give them a work over beforehand, but only if they'll let me."

"As I'm sure you're entirely too aware, making a record disappear is entirely too easy if you know what you're doing. What kind of guarantee is there that the permission won't be revoked after the fact, leaving us vulnerable?" Prowl asked bluntly.

"No records, not like that," Radiance said. "Nothing with designations, images, anything else attached. You get a serial attached to your work, that's it. You can even check out the system if you want, I have at least enough weight for that."

Prowl hummed, turning the system basics over in his processors a few times while both his companions watched him carefully. "Easily abused, but easier to secure. I have a solid assessment of what they'd want Saxo for, but what use am I in that world?"

"Any number of things, I'm sure," Radiance said. "I just pick the talent out where I see it and send it over, doesn't even always work out. But I _know_ they can always use processor speed." He gave Prowl a wry look. "How much did you slow yourself down in organizing the archives at the precinct? I know they were slagged and Longsight was amazed at how fast you got it done, my credits are on that you could have done it faster." 

Prowl hesitated, then decided on the truth. "I was working at 29% efficiency on average. I kept myself entertained by investing on the Imperial open market and planning alternative futures."

Radiance managed to keep himself from choking on his high grade, but it was a near thing, and he swallowed smoothly before setting the cube down. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure they could find a use for that, if you were interested in the work. I don't have nearly as much to entice you with, though, I'll admit, other than an augmented salary and interesting work. _You_ , on the other hand," he said, turning his gaze to Jazz. "You already know this work can give you something you're not going to get anywhere else." 

"And if that's not something I want?" Jazz asked in a soft, deceptively calm tone. 

Radiance smiled at him, knowing but calm. "If it's honestly not something you enjoy, I'm slipping, badly. Whether it's because he won't let you or because you don't want to hurt him, you aren't active now, and I know you want to _hurt_ another, and I'm pretty sure you like it in a controlled setting where they can't do much to stop you."

Jazz cocked his head and gave him an odd smile. "You think I'm not active because of Pantera?" he asked, and reached over to slip his hand into Prowl's, lifting it and bringing the back up to his mouth to press a kiss against it, optics never leaving the golden visor. "He knows everything I've done, none of it bothers him." 

Radiance leaned back and watched the couple, privately thanking Primus that they weren't hardened criminals yet. "I know you aren't finding targets out there," he made a general wave out the window, "and I know you aren't hurting him," he waved towards Prowl. "That leaves you with no outlet as a sadist."

"Sadist," Jazz murmured, optics glittering strangely as he turned Prowl's hand over in his, brushing his fingers over the palm before lifting it for another kiss. "Say you're right," he said, once he had lowered their entwined hands back down to the table and met Radiance's gaze again. "Say I'm a sadist, and say I miss it. Let's pretend I'm not active because I have some..." He waved his free hand in the air vaguely. "...Moral compass that keeps me from just grabbing whoever I see and want. Who would I be hurting?"

"Depending on the details of that moral compass," Radiance's gaze briefly flicked to Prowl, who merely smiled at him. "Criminals, traitors, difficult sources of information, trainees learning to endure it, the condemned that the nobles don't hunt, or are too slippery to be allowed out."

Jazz turned to look at Prowl for a moment, who looked back silently, and after a pause, he frowned as he turned back to Radiance. "You aren't wrong," he said. "And those are skills I want to keep honed. Pantera would need to look closer at the system, because there are risks we aren't willing to take, not for any reason, and we'll need to talk about it."

"Agreed and understood," Radiance consented easily. "I expected nothing more tonight at best. I honestly wasn't sure we'd talk about it at all yet." He paused to sip on his high grade and focused on Prowl. "If you'd rather go straight Enforcer, I'll sign your application. I know Mortar and Longsight would too. No strings attached. You'd make an amazing ... well, anything you wanted with that processor."

"Investigator, Search and Rescue, CSI, Cybercrimes," Prowl offered. "City planner, command." He picked up his high grade and took a gulp, a move rather unlike his normal behavior. "I do miss utilizing what I was built and upgraded with more fully."

Radiance went silent and studied Prowl intently. "Pick what you want. If it's Enforcer, I know at least three more command officers who will sign your application to the academy in a sparkbeat. I know SWAT will give you almost anything you ask for."

Prowl hummed and nodded his understanding. "I will keep that in mind."

"Which is all I ask," Radiance said, smiling easily. 

Jazz leaned in against his mate, touching their helms together as he watched Radiance. "Do you play Sovereign, love?" he asked Prowl.

"Entirely too well," Prowl chuckled, stealing a kiss. "Want him to stay tonight?" he whispered in Jazz audial. "Try out whatever you found the hottest."

Jazz purred and nuzzled back and caught the corner of Prowl's mouth and bit down lightly. "First I want you to kick his aft at Sovereign so I can watch, then maybe," he murmured back.

Prowl chuckled, his pale blue optics glittering as he turned the playful nip into a heated kiss. "Sit on my lap then? A little bit of a challenge can be fun, and I win either way."

Radiance chuckled and shook his helm. "I have a nasty suspicion he'll be as distracting for me as you."

"Me?" Jazz asked innocently, grinning, very carefully keeping his wandering hands above the table. He shot a wink Radiance's way. "Don't worry, I'll make sure I'm more distracting to him."

"As if that'll help," Radiance laughed in good humor. "You two play. I'll set up the board," he grinned and stood to get the holo game cube from its spot on a shelf.

Jazz needed no more invitation than that as he climbed into Prowl's lap and let his engines kick into a low, playful purr, nibbling at Prowl's neck and sliding a hand down to his pelvis, earning himself a playful smack on the back of his wrist that did nothing to stop his caressing. "Supposed to be a challenge, love," he murmured against Prowl's neck, grinning.

"If you play too hard, I'll just stop playing for a couple kliks while I get off," Prowl rumbled as he stroked his mate, one arm holding him in his lap and the other seeking out a doorwing to tease. "You know I have no problem taking you on a table in public."

Jazz grinned and shivered at the thought and rubbed his palm over his lover's spike cover. "What do you think, Radiance?" he asked, lifting his head briefly. "If he gets off he forfeits?" 

"But what will he forfeit, other than the game?" Radiance grinned at the pair.

"Mm, loser in the game plays sub?" Prowl suggested. "If I forfeit, you call the shots in the berth tonight. If I win, Saxo does."

"And I can't even ask what happens if I win," Radiance said with mock ruefulness. "That sounds fair. Though you do actually have to start playing for any of it to count," he teased the pair. 

"Oh, you are _so_ forfeiting," Jazz purred against his lover's neck. "Want to see what he can do when he's having his wicked way." 

The shiver that traveled down Prowl's chassis and made his doorwings flutter spoke as clearly as any words how much it appealed to him, at least as long as his mate was there to enjoy it. "Then we have a challenge. Your skill against my will," he purred before looking at Radiance. "Your win is the same as my forfeit. Not that it'll happen. You may move first."

Radiance tipped his head with an upwards quirk of his lips in acknowledgement of the offered advantage as he moved his first piece, barely needing to look at it, gaze mostly fixed on the couple across the table from him. He couldn't see either of Jazz's hands at the moment, but from the angle at least one of them was in Prowl's lap. He settled back in his chair and gestured to Prowl for his move. 

It came as smoothly and quickly as Prowl's hand could move from Jazz's doorwing to the piece, shifting its location on the board in a classic first move that narrowed down what his plans were by around a third. At least that's what his opponent saw. Prowl wasn't even looking as he nibbled on Jazz's neck cables with barely 1% of his processor on tracking the game and moving his hand as needed.

Radiance followed with his move, while Jazz shifted his weight forward in Prowl's lap, baring his neck to his lover with a soft moan, snaking one hand around behind Prowl to play along his back strut while the other stroked the outline of his valve cover. Prowl shivered and made his next move, working his glossa between the thick cables he was mouthing. His valve cover remained stubbornly shut, but he could do nothing about the touch along his back as it slid up between his doorwings and continued like that through the first part of the game. Jazz shifted lazily back and forth between spike and valve covers, focusing far more on the joints where the doorwings met Prowl's back.

Radiance was started to find himself distracted by the blissful expression that was slowly taking over Prowl's features, though he was still pitting his all against a processor that he knew he couldn't beat. When he heard a cover sliding back and saw the way Jazz shifted and changed the angle of his arm, the hand moving his piece almost shook. It had been a long time. A _long_ time. 

Jazz was slipping his fingers into his own valve, and when he pulled them back out, slick and heated, he pressed them over Prowl's spike cover, carefully rubbing the lubricant over the metal, massaging it against every seam. The scent of it made both Prowl and Radiance moan, though Radiance managed to muffle his better.

Prowl shuddered and panted for a long moment as he struggled to focus past the pleasure surging through him as much from memory as from the expert touches of his mate. His arm around Jazz spasmed lightly, clutching at his lover blindly. Jazz just squirmed lightly, resettling himself and sliding his fingers back inside his valve, nipping along the length of Prowl's jaw until he heard Radiance's move. He pulled his fingers out and circled the stubborn, heated cover while bringing his other hand around to reach down and join the first, but this one moved lower, and teased at the equally stubborn valve cover. "Your turn, love," he said in a low voice when Prowl didn't move immediately. 

When Prowl didn't do more than pant for the next half klik Radiance grinned at him. "Forfeit?"

"No," Prowl's voice had a strangled quality to it, but he managed to make a move. Not the best choice, but not a bad one.

Radiance focused very hard on _not_ focusing on the arousing pair across from him, but instead on the decreased strategy he could see evident in the most recent move. He could never beat this processor when it was at full focus, but part of what he knew how to do was take advantage of altered states. He shifted his own strategy to one less conventional, and even less likely to win in the long run but that would be harder to defend against in the short. 

"Such a stubborn pet," Jazz purred as soon as he heard Radiance's piece, and used his fingers to spread his valve wide. "Won't give me what I want."

"I want you to give directions," Prowl panted, his fans buzzing and vents wide open, heating the room around them. He made another move, picking up on the new strategy but not able to focus enough to counter it perfectly. "Want to be at your command," he moaned, then dropped his voice to a barely-there whisper, "my Lord."

Radiance kept himself from reacting physically to the term, especially when he saw the immediate shiver and change in both wing and frame language that it created in Jazz. He moved, watching carefully, as Jazz's teasing nibbles turned into suddenly forceful-looking bites. 

"Someone," Jazz murmured, "Does not like losing, I see. Gonna have to earn it, pet. If he hasn't lost in a half dozen moves..." He pressed his lips to Prowl's audial, rubbing their chassis together while wrapping both arms around Prowl's shoulders, stopping the teasing stoking, "...I'm swallowing your spike, and we both know how long you'll last then."

"Hate losing," Prowl growled despite his panting moans, his frame going almost completely submissive in the same abrupt shift, though more subtle for having worked up to it. "Play to win," he hissed and moved, a shift that if he could keep up his focus enough to follow through would be devastating within three more moves.

Radiance gave a startled look at the board, and countered, while Jazz sat as still as he could in Prowl's lap, not even kissing his mate's neck anymore. The next three moves came fast on Prowl's side, slower on Radiance's, but even highly aroused and with his mate on his lap, there was no doubt that Prowl could ignore it all when motivated.

"You could earn a fortune on the pro circuit," Radiance shook his helm as the game flashed Prowl's victory.

"Too public," Prowl turned his attention to nuzzling Jazz in a completely subservient way. "What is your pleasure, my Lord?" he asked with a distinct note of pride at winning this for his mate.

In response, Jazz straightened and cupped his mate's face in his hands, pulling him into a slow, deep kiss. He swirled their glossa together, making Prowl moan deeply, and lowered one of his hands down for a moment, then brought it back, glistening with lubricate. He bit down gently on Prowl's lower lip, pulling for a moment, then released and pressed the finger against his lover's mouth, encouraging him to take it in. "Do you like my taste?" he asked in a deep purr.

"Very much," Prowl lapped at the offered finger, the arousal flaring his field out to press against Radiance's before he took the digit into his mouth and swirled his glossa around it while he sucked it clean.

Jazz gave a low, approving hum at the sight. "Good," he murmured, absently stroking Prowl's helm as he watched, giving no indication that he was even aware of Radiance's rapt attention behind him. "You're going to get so much more of it, pleasuring me while I watch him spike you, stretch your valve wide." He pulled his finger away and slipped it under Prowl's chin, tilting his mate's head up, meeting his optics. "And after he's spilled in you, you will fill me, and you will not overload until then."

Prowl shuddered and drew in a sharp vent. "Yes, my Lord," he whispered with an intense burst of arousal. "I exist to please you."

Jazz purred and gave him a deep, loving kiss, full of their trust and commitment, pulsing his field with approval. When he finally pulled away from it, he looked over his shoulder while slipping his finger back into Prowl's eager, accepting mouth. "Assuming you have no problems," he said, seeing the look on Radiance's face. "Though if you do, we'll be quite happy on our own," he added, turning back to Prowl and stroking his mate's helm as he watched. 

"No problem," Radiance finally gave in to the heat of his frame and allowed his vents and fans to go full out. "Just position him and I'll give you a show."

"Hm," Jazz smiled, looking at his lover. "Berth," he instructed, moving gracefully to his pedes, bringing Prowl with him with barely a brush of his finger under the other's chin, leading him into their berthroom, where he guided him onto his back. 

A glance up at Radiance to ensure the mech had followed and was watching, and Jazz moved up next to him, shifting up onto his knees and straddling Prowl's helm. "Tell me how much you want it," he purred, leaning forward, running his fingers along the underside of Prowl's bumper. 

"More than anything," Prowl moaned and stretched his helm up to circle his glossa around the slick rim of Jazz's valve. He spread his legs, his knees up and hips rolled forward to give Radiance the best view of his open and glistening valve and to give his mate the best possible view of the spike sliding into it.

Jazz gasped, unprepared for how _good_ even just the light touch felt, sending shocks right up through him. "So good," he moaned, optics finding Radiance, who was leaning against the doorframe and watching, visor bright in the relative darkness of the room. Jazz crooked a finger at him as he settled down more, keeping his next moan mostly muffled. "So let's see what you've been hiding," he purred. 

Radiance slid onto the berth, hiding the nervous excitement from his field, never losing Jazz's gaze, and moved between Prowl's legs, putting his hands on the insides of the other mech's thighs and spreading them even wider. He nudged his hips forward against Prowl's, bumping against him, before sliding his cover away and letting his aching spike pressurize. 

As dark as the rest of his frame, with glowing golden highlights running up along the underside and forming circles around the entire length, longer and more slender than Jazz. The head was sculpted and smooth, that same gold color right at the very tip. 

"As enchanting as the rest of you is," Jazz purred, reaching forward to stroke it lightly.

"How do you want him taken?" Radiance moaned at the touch and image, trying to control just how badly he wanted to sink into the offered tightness and his first real triad experience. He wanted this far more than he ever imagined possible. It sang to a part of his coding he was normally only aware of in the most abstract of ways.

Jazz shivered and gasped as Prowl swirled his glossa through his platelets, making them all quiver from the touch, throttling back the hard rev his engines were threatening so he could focus on his answer. "Long, slow," he instructed, wrapping his fingers under the spike and rubbing the entire length. "Make him work to not overload."

Radiance shuddered and rocked into the touch while Prowl moaned against Jazz's valve, then pressed his glossa inside the rim just enough to lap at the dense ring of sensors there.

"What happens if he fails?" Radiance moaned, more than willing to allow Jazz to tease him. He'd seen enough already to know that it wouldn't be like this every time.

"If he fails," Jazz said, purring at the feel of the spike in his hand and the mouth pressed to his valve, "Instead of spiking me when you're done, he gets to watch while you do. Provided you think you have that kind of stamina, that is," he added with a grin.

"I'm Praxian," Radiance moaned, shivering and eager. It would be a test to see which of them lost control first, though he was reasonably sure that Prowl had a lot more experience with holding his charge in check, and despite his reputation, he was badly in need of a 'face. "Of course I have the stamina."

"Knew I fell in love with a Praxian for a reason," Jazz said, giving a short, gasping laugh, fully enjoying the weight and texture of the dark mech in his palm. ::All right with you, my love?:: he commed his mate as he rocked his hips in a slow counter-rhythm to Prowl's movement.

::Yes!:: Prowl's moan was deeply resonant. ::Watching you with him would melt me.::

Jazz's engines gave a hard, sharp rev and he groaned, fingers tightening for another moment before trailing away, hand lifting slowly to his mouth and touching his smiling lips, fully aware his every movement had Radiance's complete attention. "I think he likes the idea," he said, then shifted his weight forward and held himself up on one arm while the other slid down beneath his mate's thighs, fingers forming a V around the valve entrance, rubbing through the slick platelets. Prowl's vents caught in a sharp gasp and Radiance's vocalizer released a strangled moan as he watched. "He's slick for you, take him," Jazz commanded, voice lowered with desire. 

A low, deep rumble of Radiance's powerful pursuit engine greeted the statement. With no hesitation he shifted, lining his smooth spike up with the opening and pressed forward. It took all his will to make the slide a slow one and give the mech watching a good show it of as the bands of black disappeared one by one. It was even harder when the mech he was pressing into tried to roll into the slide and rippled his valve.

"So good of you to share," Radiance moaned as he finally pressed his spike housing against the rim of the valve between Jazz's fingers.

"Just as good of you to join us," Jazz purred, fully enjoying the way the heated x-vents from his lover's mouth had just increased in temperature, strength, and speed. He squirmed lightly, shivering, circling the base of Radiance's spike with his fingers, carefully guiding the mech to slip out just a little before pressing back in. Prowl's frame shuddered beneath him and his moan against Jazz's valve made the younger mech quiver and toss his head back. The heated scent of Prowl's lubricant hit him fully and he managed to lift lust-bright optics up to Radiance. "Long, and slow," he repeated, settling back to watch and enjoy. "See if you can make him overload before you lose yourself."

"And make you overload at least once," Radiance panted as he withdrew until only the tip of his spike was still inside his lover, then slid forward. "Maybe twice, before a spike sinks into you to make you scream." His entire frame was trembling, the difficulty of holding back already visible in his frame. "He feels _so_ good. Tight. Hot. Slick. So incredibly eager."

Under them Prowl whined and gripped the spike filling him. His hands rubbed Jazz's hips as he thrust his glossa as deeply as he could, lapping at the slick interior of his mate, rewarded by the deep, blissful moans that Jazz gave from even the lightest lick.

"He knows how much I like watching," Jazz gasped out, bracing himself with his hands on his thighs. "And being watched." He grinned, meeting Radiance's gaze before flicking his gaze downward, between his legs. He reached between them, touching gentle fingers to Prowl's neck and stroking at the cabling there. "And his frame is incredible," he added in a moan. "Every part of him." 

"Yours must be too," Radiance said in a low voice. He was panting heavily, optics roaming the other's frame. "Can't wait to explore more of you, both of you, if you'll let me." 

"I'd say it's a definite possibility," Jazz hummed, his field meshing with the other two, tangling in pleasure. "Pantera can tell you how much I enjoyed your ideas."

"Good," Radiance groaned and shook, his pace picking up as his control slipped. How these two could still be holding out he couldn't imagine, but he wanted to learn. "Want to be helpful," his voice was nearly strangled by the static of his charge as it began to dance across his frame and arch onto Prowl's where they came close. "Close," he warned, giving Jazz an opportunity for one last bit of direction if it was desired.

Jazz felt the pleased, ecstatic flare from beneath him and shuddered over his mate as he watched their new berthmate's face wash with bliss. "So eager," he gasped, shivering badly from a mix of the show and his lover's familiar touch. "Let me see you in ecstasy, then, gorgeous one," he purred, leaning forward, rapt.

A roar rolled into a sharp, high keen as Radiance drove forward, thrusting hard and fast for a few brief cycles, then locked up to pump his fluids deep into Prowl's valve, lighting off sensors with each grinding burst.

Jazz shuddered and his hand shot out to grab Radiance's shoulder to steady himself when Prowl bucked and charge rushed through all three of them, Jazz giving a sharp, almost startled cry as it pushed him into overload, trembling and hot around his mate's glossa as they rode the charge out together. 

Radiance's frame sagged and Jazz gasped, forcing himself to unlock the grip his thighs had around Prowl's helm, managing to lift his head enough to offer the dark mech a grin. "Pantera's turn, then," he purred as he lifted himself up and off, vents whirring but his arousal nowhere near sated, not for these two.

With a shaky nod Radiance pulled out as his coordination returned and flopped down near the end of the berth, watching as Prowl shifted to his hands and knees and Jazz spread himself out shamelessly for his mate.

Jazz wrapped his hand around the back of Prowl's neck, bringing him in for a deep kiss, eagerly tasting himself on his lover's glossa as he reached forward to rub his palm over the spike cover, which sprang away as soon as he brushed against it. "Got me all warmed up and ready, pet," he murmured, stroking the spike that pressurized into his hand. "Take me, need you, need more, _deeper_."

Behind them Radiance gave an appreciative rumble for the level of custom design apparent in Prowl's spike before it disappeared into Jazz with a joint moan.

"Need you," Prowl shuddered with the pleasure of being inside the mech he loved so much. "Love you, always want to be yours."

"Always will," Jazz gasped, reclining back and sliding his leg up along Prowl's body. "My love," he moaned, completely aware of Radiance's attention and the view they were giving the other mech, the knowledge that they were being watched making him shudder right down to his protoform and ripple around Prowl's spike.

"Yes, so slick, so tight, you're perfect," Prowl rumbled, rocking his hips to slide in and out of his lover and giving the mech behind them a show of the movement and Prowl's still-exposed valve, dripping lubricant and transfluid. "Never tire of you."

Jazz hummed in bliss, utterly content to be beneath Prowl, feeling the perfect rock and stretch of his lover's frame and the slow, perfect buildup of charge as they pressed together. "Love you," he moaned, clutching Prowl to him, slowly losing himself. 

Radiance couldn't keep his hand off his spike as he watched, stroking slowly, easily, engines rumbling and looking on with wonder as the pair moved together. As their pants became heavier and their shivers harder, he was watching them become equals. One of them had started in control, but just from the way they touched and moaned, and from what he could teek, that couldn't be farther from what they actually _were_. The control, the power, was all a game. They were perfectly, absolutely balanced now, familiar and knowing, both a joy and a torture to watch. 

"Pantera," Jazz moaned suddenly, sharply, fingers gripping at Prowl's shoulder. "Close!" 

"Yes," Prowl moaned, shivering, thrusting and so very close himself. "Please, let me feel you overload, drag me with you. Let me."

Jazz whined, pushing back against him, and let go of the tenuous hold he was keeping on his charge and immediately felt it burst out and race through his frame, making him seize beneath Prowl and buck against his spike. He heard Radiance's low moan, and then he felt Prowl's frame freeze against his and he toppled over the edge, _lost_ in his lover's arms, field exploding with bliss as he was filled, flooded, in every possible way by his love.

When Jazz was able to focus again, he felt Prowl snuggled on one side and Radiance on the other.

"That was amazing," Radiance purred and leaned in to kiss Jazz warmly. "You're both amazing in how right you are together."

Jazz kissed back, getting a slow, careful taste of the dark lips before turning away to claim an equally deep kiss from his mate. "We think so too," he purred, stroking Prowl's helm, gazing adoringly at him. 

"Think you have enough in your for a third round?" Radiance asked hopefully. "Your spike and my valve haven't had any fun yet."

Prowl's engine gave a hard, hungry rev before he throttled it back.

Jazz smiled and chuckled, taking one more kiss from Prowl, then lifted himself up and rolled, hands on Radiance's shoulders, pinning the other mech back against the berth. "Slow or rough?" he asked, engines purring as he pushed Radiance's thighs apart with his own. He and Prowl both reveled in the brilliant flare of Radiance's field as the valve cover snapped open, revealing a very slick valve.

"Show me your rough. Hard, fast and deep. Anything you want," Radiance offered.

::He's testing you, love,:: Prowl commed Jazz privately. ::He wants to see where your rough is on his scale.::

Jazz cocked his head down at the dark mech, corners of his mouth quirking up. "Apparently you want to be sore in the morning," he purred deeply, settling back in his processor to a place he'd built from observation, and reached down between Radiance's legs, jamming his fingers into the offered valve, testing it briefly for lubricant and stretch with a quick, harsh thrust and twist of his wrist. His spike pressurized between them and he shifted his weight, hand snapping out and up, grabbing Radiance's throat and slamming his head back into the berth, sinking into the frame beneath him in one thrust. 

He felt how startled Radiance was, and the mech submitted in the way of one who was humoring, rather than cowed. Prowl's field touched Jazz's with concern before he settled in to watch, teek and enjoy, but ready to interfere if needed.

Jazz groaned, fingers tightening around the neck as he reached back to grab Radiance's leg, hiking it up and spreading the mech forcefully wide, barely taking the time to feel and enjoy the new frame before starting to drive into him, setting a fast, forceful rhythm. He could feel Radiance's valve quivering and contracting around him, unfamiliar with the design of his spike, learning its shape and girth in short bursts of motion when Jazz was fully buried before being forced to release as he pulled back out. "Not bad at all," Jazz gasped, engines revving with the effort.

Dark hands reached up to caress Jazz's bumper and undercarriage as the black mech otherwise relaxed into the situation, then began to moan as the pleasure built. "Love your spike," he gasped out after a couple kliks, his hips starting to work into Jazz's rhythm.

Jazz gave a pleased rev in response, lowering himself more fully over the other, pressing his face to the side of Radiance's neck to bite at the cables there, fingers shifting to give him more room but not loosening in the slightest. "When I'm less impatient," he managed, gasping, "I'll get you properly strung up and used."

Radiance shivered in anticipation. Bondage and submission might not be high on his kink list, but as long as it felt good and it got his lover revved up he wasn't going to complain.

Right now, Jazz was giving him _nothing_ to complain about, and from the way the mech was panting and moving, the opposite was true as well.

Each of them two hard overloads down already, it took their frames longer to build a charge than this kind of speed would normally need, but even with that, it was still a matter of counting kliks until Jazz shuddered over him and roared against his neck, the sound muffled, spilling into his valve, filling him completely with white-hot sensation.

While not as intense as his first, the charge crackling directly into his valve caused Radiance to arch up hard, his legs attempting to lock against his lover as the overload washed through him.

As it started to taper, Jazz slumped down into a slow reboot cycle and Radiance collapsed back, gasping, looking at Prowl, Jazz's fingers still around his neck. "Didn't expect that," he said, shivering, slowly lowering his leg down and settling, taking the stillness to get a better feel of the lodged spike.

"He has a dominance kink that I can only partially fulfill," Prowl said with a warm smile and hazily pleasurable field from watching. "I'm not surprised he indulged in one of the few things he can not do with me."

Radiance trailed his fingers up and down along the back of Jazz's neck, listening to the systems start to boot up, his own engines purring and sated. "I didn't expect to even see the inside of your apartment, much less your berthroom, this soon," he murmured, still facing Prowl. "I'm sorry if I walk a fuzzy line between business and pleasure sometimes."

"I understand," Prowl quirked a slight smile. "We weren't exactly planning on moving this fast either, but we told you the truth. Saxo _likes_ your ideas, loves being watched and watching, and you are right that I've longed for a triad. Whether this works out long term or not, it will be pleasant when you are invited over. Do not expect more than that for some time. We may be ready to accept an occasional lover, but we are not ready to court for something more."

"I understand as well," Radiance said softly, his gaze flickering back to Jazz for a moment, feeling the soft rumble of engines kicking back on into a contented idle above him. "I've never courted a pair before, I'm happy to move towards that as slowly as you want. Though, what would you say to lunch sometime? Just you and me. You know I'm interested in Saxo, and he doesn't come without you, so I'd like to get to know you better."

"I would be agreeable to that," Prowl smiled, warmed by being properly courted, even on such a basic level. He reached out to stroke Jazz's arm, lightly removing the lax hand from Radiance's throat, then stroked the cables lightly, inspecting for any damage. "I would like to know you better as well. For tonight, you are welcome to recharge with us."

Jazz's pleased hum indicated that he was back online and had heard the last part. His optics flickered on and went immediately to Prowl, reaching for him, drawing him down into a lazy kiss. He shifted, pulling out of Radiance with a mutual shiver and moved onto the berth between the other two. 

"I would enjoy staying," Radiance said, smiling, stroking Jazz's helm and looking at Prowl. "Thank you." 

"Thank you as well," Jazz murmured, barely fighting off recharge now that he was fully booted. He tugged at Prowl, who was still sitting. "Lay down."

Prowl chuckled and obediently laid down, smoothly snuggling against his mate so they were perfectly aligned. "Recharge well, my love," he murmured to Jazz, stroking his shoulder.

Radiance tucked himself in behind Jazz, face against the back of his neck, and Jazz purred happily between the two. "Love you," he murmured to Prowl, and slipped into recharge.

* * *

Neither Prowl nor Radiance asked Jazz about the potential job offer the SWAT CO had made him, and it was more than a decaorn later before Jazz touched his fingers to Prowl's dataport, relaxed and panting beneath his lover after interface, silently requesting the security of the hardline. 

~I'm going to accept Radiance's offer,~ he said when they connected. ~Unless you don't want me to.~

~It is a good offer,~ Prowl kissed him softly. ~We may not see as much of each other, but if you enjoy it, it is worth it. Just tell me why you want to accept.~

~I need to feel like I'm _doing_ something, _building_ something,~ Jazz said. ~Dancing is fun and all and I love doing it, but it's empty. This...this is keeping something honed. He formed me into a weapon and I'm going to dull if I do nothing but _dance_ until we're strong enough. This will sharpen and refine.~

~Agreed,~ Prowl murmured, thoughtful and a little sad. ~This will hone you into something he could never conceive of if I am correct. It will bring us contacts of the kind he doesn't know how to stop. It may also bring you into contact with his allies, or even him.~

~His 'parties,' that's true,~ Jazz said, and frowned. ~It's strange to think we could be in the same city as him, at any time. He was in Kalis all the time, and anywhere else he had friends. I wonder...what I would do if I just turned a corner and saw him.~

~If you can, don't react and tell me immediately,~ Prowl said with absolute certainty that it was the right choice. ~Track him. If you can, shift frames and kill him. You have the upgrades and training to do it if you catch him by surprise. But only do so if you can get away.~

~I would so regret not getting to torture him with you,~ Jazz hummed, and shivered out to the tips of his doorwings. ~But having him gone...getting this _thing_ off. If it's safe, if I can get him somewhere where I can recover from the break, I'll kill him.~

~Know that I _will_ be on my way as soon as you comm me. I can get you away,~ Prowl said. ~I would miss torturing him as well, but it would be well worth it to have him gone.~

Jazz purred and nuzzled his mate. ~This will make me stronger. Have you decided what you'd like to do? You know Radiance wants to recruit you, he's made no secret of that.~

~I know, but I have an itch to scratch first,~ Prowl nuzzled him back. ~I want to be an Enforcer. I want to be among people again, helping, enforcing the rules. It's not being a seneschal but it's closer. I can always take him up on his offer later.~

~That will not help us see more of each other, but we have the rest of our lives together. It's taken this long to finally believe something isn't going to take you from me at any moment, I think,~ Jazz said, almost thoughtful. ~And you are so perfectly suited to enforce rules,~ he added with a grin, and in a smooth motion, hooked his leg around Prowl's waist and rolled, pushing his lover onto his back and settling over him, still fully sheathing his spike. ~You always were.~

~True, on all counts,~ Prowl relaxed into his lover's movements and moaned softly at the way it made his spike slide inside the tight, hot channel. ~Love you.~

~Up for a ride?~ Jazz purred, lifting his arms up, running one hand along the opposite arm and dipping his wings enticingly. ~A celebration. This will make us strong, this will make us _so_ strong.~

~Always,~ Prowl shivered in anticipation. ~Anything you desire, love. Yes, it will make us very strong. It will bring us allies and training and resources.~

~Mhmm,~ Jazz hummed, hands moving down along the front of his chassis, coming to settle on his insides of his thighs, fingers splayed out, framing the view of Prowl's spike disappearing into his valve as he began to rock. ~My love, my love,~ he moaned, head thrown back, field washed with bliss, Prowl's flush with the same and entangled with his, losing themselves in each other for the rest of the night.


	26. Opening Gambit

Prowl held himself even more properly than usual, his frame and doorwings taut without showing tension. He had not felt this level of stress at meeting someone he already knew since he'd given his first report as a seneschal. Everyone he passed knew what he was here for and many gave him encouraging looks. Radiance had said that Mortar would be happy to sign the recommendation form. Yet there was no way to know until he actually tried.

With a steadying intake and x-vent, Prowl pinged for admittance to the precinct chief's office.

The door opened along with the rumbling, "Come in," from inside the office, revealing Mortar seated behind his desk per usual, scowling down at the disorderly sprawl of datapads in front of him before he lifted his head, and his expression immediately shifted to a warm smile. "Pantera," he greeted, gesturing for him to sit.

Prowl smiled back slightly and complied. "I see the bureaucracy has not improved any."

"Not one bit," Mortar grumbled, held two datapads up, looked bewilderedly between the two, then turned them around for Prowl to see. "Tell me what is the reasoning behind needing a separate report for both a domestic investigation and the same investigation's follow-up and why they cannot just all be in the same slagging document."

"The designer of the system wanted to keep everyone busy entering data and off the streets," Prowl suggested with a touch of dark humor. "Though I believe the actual answer has to do with there not being a designer to the system."

Mortar gusted a huff of agreement, looked at the datapads once more, then tossed them aside into the rest of the pile. "I'd believe that. You want that job? Please tell me you're here because you've realized your life's calling is to rid the planet of bureaucratic redundancy."

Prowl chuckled deeply. "As much as I'd enjoy that, I do not believe there is an opening, much as every working mecha would want there to be. I am here for a job, however." He pulled a datapad from subspace and offered it. "I wish to attend the Academy."

Mortar accepted, skimming the document without fully reading it. "Patrol," he commented, nodding in approval. "Four metacycle course, but gives a solid base to work up from. Excellent choice. Gonna give Radiance a solid thrashing for this if Longsight doesn't get to him first."

"Radiance didn't give me the idea," Prowl promised, though his chuckle did little to make it sound credible. "It does give me a good base. I have also missed working with common mecha, being in a community and being someone they can turn to when there is trouble."

Mortar pretended to look displeased, but the warm pride in his field made the expression futile. "I'll give him a thrashing just in case," he rumbled, and then his scowl smoothed out into open concern. "Before I sign this, I have to ask how things are at home. Academy is going to be hard, even with your frame and processor, I can't emphasize that enough. Support from a mate can help immensely, but trouble will do the opposite."

"As Radiance can attest to, things are good at home," Prowl answered honestly. "Saxo has recovered from his distress and I have recovered from surrendering the sparklings to be raised by others. I'm very grateful that Saxo and Radiance get along. It will make things much easier for me to focus on my studies, knowing that someone he likes is looking out for him."

"From what I haven't heard from all the personal gossip that isn't allowed and doesn't happen, all three of you get along quite well," Mortar said, signing the datapad with a bit of a smile. He started to hand it back, then stopped and pulled it back just as Prowl was about to take it, raising an optic ridge at him. "If my SWAT chief gets too besotted to do his job, _you're_ going to be the one getting a trashing."

"Only if you can catch me," Prowl dared to tease, feeling lighter and more excited about the future than he had in a very long time.

Mortar smiled and chuckled. "I could catch you, just give me a vorn to get my engines back in racing shape. Congratulations, trainee, you've certainly earned this."

"I'm not a trainee yet, sir," Prowl said. "This is just an application." 

"Nonsense," Mortar rumbled. "With my signature on there? You'll be accepted in time for the next round." He handed the datapad back over. 

"Thank you sir," Prowl responded properly, but the excitement and happiness in his field caressed Mortar's when the datapad changed hands.

"It's my pleasure," Mortar said, with warm honesty. "So, Saxo starts his own training this orn, doesn't he?" 

"Yes," Prowl nodded, a mixture of concern and pleasure in his field.

Mortar gave him a sympathetic look. "I know what it's like, to watch a loved one go through that course. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm always more than happy for a reason to avoid my desk work."

Prowl chuckled, then paused. "Who did you have go through it?"

"A very dear friend," Mortar said, nostalgia clear in the tilt of his doorwings as he waved Prowl out the door. "We were raised as brothers. Now go on, you need to get that submitted before this orn's deadline if you want to start next round." 

* * *

Halfway across the city and deep underground, Jazz stood in a dim room that was empty but for a single chair and the lithe, matte black mech that was circling him, giving him a long, hard, silent look. Jazz held still, calm, unintimidated by the light-looking frame, one that reminded him of his original adult frame. 

"So you're my new recruit," the mech finally said, breaking the silence very suddenly. "'Saxo.' Tell me, what makes you so special, Saxo?" 

"I handle pain well, I give it better," Jazz said. 

"I can teach anyone that," the black mech responded. "Try again."

Jazz shrugged. "Apparently what makes me special is that I don't need to be taught. I've already proven I can handle it."

"Yes, physical pain, at least when you're glitching over giving away the sparkling you carried," the black mech began circling him again. "Physical pain is a great way to distract yourself from how fragged your processors are. Just how did you get so damaged?"

Jazz's doorwings lifted in a barely-discernable tensing of his frame, but one that the other saw easily, as clear to him as the pause before the answer was. "I didn't have a kind teacher." 

"Designation," the black mech demanded calmly.

"I don't know it," Jazz said. "You obviously know about the glitch that drove my sparkling away. In an early attempt to prevent it from integrating, the designation was wiped."

"Risky, since you're still hiding from him," the black mech observed, then pushed Jazz into the chair and leaned in, right up against his face. "How do you know I'm not him?" he purred. "That I'm not going to just keep you in this room forever, or until I tire of you at least."

"I _know_ what he looks like," Jazz said. "If you are him, rebuilt, I hardly expect you'd feel compelled to be honest about your designation." 

"Then you aren't completely clueless. Good," he purred, lifting a finger to stroke the flat of it under Jazz's jaw and chin. "Describe him. I want to know who to thank. And to tear to shreds should you survive me."

Jazz jerked his head away. "No." 

"Yes." He shifted his finger to put the sharp claw tip under the jaw strut. "You will have no secrets from me. Not when you leave this room. You will give them to me, or I will take them."

"I would love to see you try," Jazz said. "Is this supposed to be training or an interrogation?"

A grin spread across matte black features. "A bit of both, but mostly the later. This is about determining if you are worth my time to train. That, in short, is about how much it takes to make you break." He leaned forward and nipped a kiss. "Tell me, did you ever love those little monsters you got rid of?"

"I might have, once," Jazz said, scowling at him. "If I did I can't imagine it anymore. Gonna ask if I remember their designations, too?" 

"Nope," he chuckled, his field playing along Jazz's. "But I do wonder what designation you were first known by. How many you've gone through. I may not trust your records, but I can teek how young you are. If you've been in your adult frame a quarter century I'll resign."

That made Jazz's optics widen. He hadn't realized that could be teeked so quickly and easily. "Four vorns," he admitted, seeing no reason to hide that.

"It's a skill, pretty one," the black mech purred, smoothly and easily hiding his intense shock at such youth given what he knew. "No, not many can teek that. This is my function." He paused and stood, giving Jazz a bit of space as he began to pace again. "My secondary one, but it takes up much of my time these vorns. My first function, what I was called to be, care to guess at it?"

Jazz gave him a good, long look, all the way up and down. "You look like you would make an excellent sparkling sitter," he said earnestly. 

"Good, a sense of humor," he grinned at his subject. "You'll be fun. Radiance seems to think your best use is an interrogator. Would you agree?"

"Why don't you show me how it's done and then I'll let you know," Jazz said, cocking his head and mirroring the grin. 

"As you wish," the dark mech purred. He moved like lighting, slamming Jazz to his back, making him give a quiet, startled grunt at the impact, and then twisted him around to catch both wrists in a tight coil of chain. "Remember, you asked for this," he crooned in Jazz's audial before hauling the larger mech to his pedes with strength that such a small, lithe frame shouldn't have.

Jazz jerked both wrists against the chain, twisting and snapping, finding it held stronger than he ever would have suspected. "Scared for my arms to be free?" he taunted, unsettled by the speed the mech had displayed but not letting it show.

"Hardly," he laughed as he tossed the end over a locking hook and secured it so Jazz was standing on his toe plates. "I'm Whiplash, if he didn't tell you. If you're good enough, I'll teach you everything I know." He came around to catch Jazz's chin so they were staring in each other's optics. "If you aren't, if you break too soon, you probably won't leave this room."

"That's a bluff and we both know it," Jazz snapped at him. "Radiance wouldn't have sent me here otherwise."

"Radiance has his job, I have mine," Whiplash walked around his prey. When he was behind Jazz there was a snapping sound, a supersonic crack. "My job is to make sure any mecha I train will not crack. Will not break. Will not surrender to the enemy or to Primus below." Another supersonic crack and this time Jazz saw it for the black whip that had no doubt given the mech his designation. "In that process there are casualties. It happens. I prefer them to happen early, rather than after I've invested vorns into a subject."

Whiplash came to stand in front of Jazz, the whip in an easy coil in his hand. "The rules are simple. I will do anything I can to break you. I will violate you in any and every way I can imagine. There are only two ways out of this room with your spark still in your frame. Say 'rendono' and it is over. I will see you to our medic. You will be repaired and you will never see my kind again. It is failure. Surrender. Second is to give me the designation you were created with," Whiplash smiled dangerously. "Yes, I am reasonably well aware of just how badly you do not want that information known. It is a death sentence for you and your mate if I read it right."

Jazz couldn't completely stifle the stunned shock that rippled out into his field as he stared at the black mech. "And how will you know I'm not lying, if you don't even believe my records?"

"A very long existence at teeking the truth. I put myself and my teams on the line every vorn based on whether I believe a prisoner is telling me the truth when I don't have the resources to check," Whiplash smiled darkly. "If you can lie and make me believe it, you've earned the right to your secrets."

Jazz regarded him for a moment. "My designation _is_ Saxo," he said.

"It might be, but that's not what I asked," Whiplash danced the sharp tip of the whip across Jazz's bumper. Just a scratch. Just enough to tell the bound mech of Whiplash's skill.

Jazz twitched at it. "It's the designation I was created with," he said flatly. "No reason to hide that."

"We both know better than that," Whiplash snapped his wrist and shattered Jazz's right headlight.

Jazz jerked and arched, hissing sharply. "What's a designation matter, anyway?"

"Many things," he shrugged and snapped his wrist to shatter the other headlight. "Right now, I want it because you are desperate not to tell me."

Another hiss and a wince and Jazz looked at the mech through half-shuttered optics. "I don't believe you would deactivate me," he finally said. "I'm too good. I'm not giving it to you, try as hard as you want."

"We'll see about that," Whiplash snapped the whip's clawed end across Jazz's abdominals.

* * *

Jazz was _shocked_ back online with a sharp, cruel twist of a claw in one of his vents and he gasped, the pain slamming back into him. A look at his chronometer--he'd been out for less than a klik--somewhere around three orns since the door had closed and locked him in here--and he groaned. 

A hand patted his cheek and he forced his fritzing vision feed to focus and looked scathingly at the mech that was now straddling his hips, apparently having let him drop when he'd been knocked offline. 

Whiplash looked gruesome, which meant Jazz had to look worse. It was his spilled energon coating the mech and he knew he was covered with transfluid on top of that. More than that, he _hurt_. He ached in a way he hadn't felt in vorns, and he so badly wanted to give in, give Whiplash the secret he was trying to pry out, but terror that the mech would turn on him, and the _need_ not to fail at this, kept him holding out. 

But he was starting to wonder if the mech really wouldn't deactivate him if he didn't give. He was in bad shape. 

"How...long?" he rasped. 

"How long until what?" Whiplash asked, looking very comfortable where he was perched over the larger Praxian frame, tracing his claws around seams on his chest in a way that was making Jazz nervous. 

"Until...I pass." 

Whiplash laughed at him. "Doesn't work like that." One claw wriggled deeper. "Gonna tell me what I want to hear?" 

Jazz shook his head. 

The mech's field flared out with pleasure that he didn't try to hide, and then there was a _pull_ and the sickening, dizzying burn of fraying, snapped cables as the plate came off, and it finally clicked in Jazz's processor what the mech was trying to do. 

"No!" he gasped, and bucked his hips, twisting. A powerful hand slammed him back into the ground. "Stay out of my chest!" 

"Really?" Whiplash asked, not stopping, weakening the plating and locks with small, careful strikes and slashes. "You couldn't bring yourself to care about being raped and now _this_ is so important?" He grinned. "Let's see why, pretty one." 

"Nn--" Jazz bucked again. "Stop-- _stop!_ Leave it alone!" 

"Whores should do whatever is wanted of them." 

"I'm _not_ a whore," Jazz growled. 

"Oh but you are. Spreading your legs for free, less than a gutters buymech. What fragged you so much? Is that why you hide?" 

"Slag you," Jazz hissed, and well-armored chest plating started to creak. " _Please._ " 

Whiplash ignored him, focused on his work. 

Jazz groaned, gathered his strength, and _rolled_ , dislodging the mech, but only for a matter of nanokliks before he was pinned again. 

"Is your spark deformed?" Whiplash asked sweetly. "Is that why you couldn't look at that sparkling? Knew he was the same?" 

Jazz turned his head to the side, panting and silent. 

"Designation, slut." 

"Go melt in the Pit," Jazz growled. 

"You're going to fail," Whiplash informed him. "I can tell. Give me your designation." 

"Strata." 

"Try lying better next time," the mate black mech shot back. "Designation. History." 

"I can't-- _I can't!_ " Jazz almost sobbed when the plating started to buckle, weakening. "Please, my mate could be killed!"

"Inconsequential." 

"Just--just promise you won't use it to hurt us," Jazz begged. 

"Can't, sunshine." 

"Then--"

"Designation."

"But--"

"Whore. Failure. Everything you whispered to yourself alone in the dark is true, that's the thing most mecha try not to believe, but I'm here to tell you they're all true. Glitched-out slut. _Shareware._ Overloading in gutters from being pounded into the filth. Abused as a sparkling, perhaps? A black market buybit? It would explain the obsession with interfacing. Does Pantera know?" 

Jazz growled at him.

"Designation, please," Whiplash said sweetly, and his claws were all the way under the plating, and when he ripped, everything was going to _tear_ apart. Jazz's vents stalled out, and the mech grinned darkly. 

"Please," Jazz gasped. "Please, I'll--" 

"Designation." A pull. 

"No!" Jazz cried. "What do you want to hear, anything, just not--! I--I was created to be sold to a sadist with a seal fetish--he was my teacher, I fell in love with him and his newspark took, I only escaped after I found out what he wanted to do to my sparkling, please, that's the truth!"

Whiplash stilled for a moment, looking at him. "That _is_ the truth," he finally said, then his gaze went dark. "But not what I wanted to know." 

One rough pull, and Jazz's world tilted in a dizzying lurch of pain as the plating was torn open.

He felt as much as teeked the shock the rolled through Whiplash's field at what was inside Jazz's chest. Not a deformed spark, but a caged, sealed-off one.

"There aren't half a dozen mecha in existence that can do work like that," Whiplash breathed, allowing his awed respect for the quality of the work to show. "Perhaps only two that could be trusted not to tell who it was installed in."

Jazz's panting slowed and gradually quieted in the moment of stillness as he stared at the mech above him. Damage warnings were flooding his HUD and he was doing his best to ignore them, but he also knew he was only going to survive so much longer without energon. "Please," he whispered, voice laced with static. " _Please_ , I'll tell you, just promise you won't use it to hurt Pantera." 

A strangely gentle finger caressed his spark chamber through the holes in the black crystal cage, sending zaps of pleasure into Jazz's broken frame.

"You know I can't do that," Whiplash told him, not-so-privately amazed at the implications of what he was looking at as he began to put the pieces together into a picture he would never have believed in a report.

"If I can't trust you..."

"You're going to have to," Whiplash told him. "You're going to have to trust even when I can't promise you, because I refuse to lie to my agents about what I can not control." He regarded the mangled and desperate mech under him.

Jazz struggled with himself, torn, looking back at him through the glitching vision feed. He couldn't, he _couldn't_ give up that designation. He shook his head.

A smile quirked over Whiplash's lips. "Very well," he murmured, and the gentle, teasing strokes through the blocker over his chamber changed, shifted, and what had been soft pleasure turned into _agony._ Sensors told him that Whiplash was barely using any pressure, but just that light scratch set his sensornet alight. 

" _You_ are not bonded to your mate, like your records say," Whiplash's voice cut through the white-out haze. 

"No--I--I--" Jazz gasped. 

"You are not a Praxian citizen. Your citizenship should not have been granted. I could have you arrested, torn apart, reported, deported." 

Vision was fritzing, he could barely conceive of his frame outside the claws that were starting to dig into the crystal. 

"You're going to deactivate," that voice crooned. "After everything you've been through, you're going to deactivate alone and screaming on the floor, Pantera will never know what happened, you just won't ever come home. He'll fade in agony, just as alone, never knowing..."

" _No!_ " Jazz sobbed, writhing. "No--nn--i--it's--I--"

"What's that? I couldn't quite understand you." 

A horrifying, shuddering, protoform-spasming _scrape_ over the crystal, a layer of it shredded away beneath the claw. 

" _Jazz!_ " he screamed. 

Immediately the pain abated, the pressure gone, leaving only echoes of it skittering across Jazz's awareness.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it my young noble?" Whiplash purred.

His vents clicked and spun in broken, uneven cycles, too damaged to move air properly through him. "You can't," Jazz managed, barely a whisper, shivers from energon-deprived systems starting to move through him. "You can't tell, Pantera..."

"Now why would I want to tell, Saxo?" Whiplash asked calmly. "I'd lose the best recruit I've had in ages."

Pain-bright optics flickered up to him. "He'd pay you. You could be the richest mecha on this side of the planet."

"I have _much_ more valuable secrets if I wanted credits," Whiplash pointed out mildly. "So will you, once I've trained you. Mecha in our field cannot be bought. Not without getting their designation on the hunting list for the rest of us."

Jazz nodded, dazed. "Is his on there?" he managed, sure Whiplash would know who he meant. 

"No," Whiplash shook his helm. "He hasn't done anything to warrant that kind of attention yet. But I know he'll slip up eventually."

Jazz's half-grin was bordering on delirium. "So I lasted long enough."

"Yep," Whiplash chuckled. "Any questions before I turn you over to our medic?"

"Had you ever 'faced a noble before?"

"Yes," Whiplash turned serious. "I've tortured them, extinguished them as well. Not even they are above us, should the Prime be angered enough."

"Shouldn't...be above you ever," Jazz murmured, optics flickering out. "Diseased class."

"All of Cybertron is diseased, youngling," Whiplash murmured as he started in on the first repairs while he waited for the medic to arrive. "You know that better than most who come here, I think."

Jazz nodded, sighed, and gave into the overwhelming press of fuel loss, head lolling as he dropped into stasis.

* * *

Radiance startled out of his light recharge when a hand landed on his shoulder and shook, nearly toppling him over in a completely undignified show as he rapidly oriented and faced the intruder with a glare and an irritated growl, until he saw who it was, and toned the growl down. The glare remained. 

"Hey Rad," Whiplash grinned. "What a surprise to find you up here." 

"Whiplash," Radiance greeted evenly. He was waiting as deep as he was permitted to go into this base without being summoned, anxious to hear anything about Jazz and how the initial testing had gone.

Whiplash flopped down next to him on the bench. "You found a _fun_ toy for me." 

Radiance's cold expression stayed in place. "Does that mean he's alive?" 

"Didn't say that, but yeah, he's alive. And by the way," Whiplash said, punching his arm playfully. "Way to go, hookin' up with the young ones. _Four_ vorns, Rad, didn't think you had it in you." 

Radiance's visor flickered in a blink. "Four vorns." 

"Since his adult upgrades," Whiplash said, nodding, fully enjoying the look that was going across the recruiter's face. 

Radiance rebooted his vocalizer a few times as he stood. "Thank you for letting me know he survived. I'm going to let his mate know, he's going to worry himself into a glitch if he doesn't hear anything soon."

"Take care!" Whiplash called after him. "Let him know he's in the hospital if he wants to visit, they'll let him in." 

* * *

Radiance found Prowl in his new temporary residence at the Enforcer Academy, walking back from that orn's training to his shared room. He fell into place behind him, then swung an arm around his shoulders and ducked him around a corner. Prowl stiffened, then relaxed when he realized who it was. "Saxo?" 

Radiance nodded. "Yeah, he got through the initial testing," he said, then lowered his voice. "Did you _know_ he's only four?" he exclaimed.

"Yes," Prowl nodded, frame and field relaxing at the knowledge that his mate was alive and relatively safe. "There is very little I don't know. Much of it is information we aren't ready to talk about. We like you, Radiance. You are our lover. We are not ready for it to be more."

"Neither am I," Radiance said, a little startled. "I just... _four?_ I knew he was young but I thought...half century, maybe." He huffed, annoyed with himself for not pinning the age better.

"I'm fairly sure he would have told you if you asked," Prowl tried to smooth it over. "We never hid that he was young. But don't feel bad," he leaned into his lover a bit. "He usually acts a lot older than he is. Can I see him?"

Radiance nodded. "He's in the hospital--their hospital, that is. If you have some free joors right now I can show you there, but I really need to get back to work, so if not you'll have to find it yourself." 

"I am done for the orn. I have nine joors until I am expected anywhere," Prowl nodded, eager to see Jazz, to reassure himself that his love was going to recover. "Please," he added softly with a motion towards the main road.

Radiance touched their helms together briefly, and nodded again. "Follow, it isn't too far from here." 

Radiance didn't speak during the drive over, following Prowl's quiet mood, and left him at the door after a brief encouraging murmur and flare of his field. 

The building was inconspicuous, but as Prowl stepped to the door, there was a pause before it opened, the delay of someone IDing him before allowing him entrance. Once inside, he was faced with an open room with a hall leading off of it, and one mech standing there. "If you'll follow me," he said kindly. "Your mate is recharging, but you are welcome to wait with him." 

"Thank you," Prowl canted his doorwings and helm politely and followed the mech. He didn't ask questions. He knew why and how his mate was here. He was led down several floors and through identical hallways, until the mech stopped at a door and palmed it open. 

"Please do not leave this room on your own. There is a comm just inside and when you press it, another escort will be here to lead you out. Take as long as you would like." He stepped back, let Prowl enter, and the door closed and locked behind him. 

Jazz was on the single berth, optics offlined and covered in fresh repairs, the most notable of them being on his chest plate, large fresh welding lines crossing the plating that would need to be smoothed down later once everything had fully reconnected and formed back in. The rest of his frame was littered with similar welds. Jazz was going to be very, very sore. 

When Prowl stepped close enough to mesh fields he teeked his mate's residual satisfaction and brought a chair over to sit in as he waited for Jazz to wake, or it was time for him to leave for class, but almost as soon as their fields relaxed against each other Prowl heard systems starting to boot, and a few kliks later, Jazz's optics were flickering on.

"Pantera," he murmured, reaching up to his mate's neck. Prowl leaned into the contact and the kiss it was demanding with grateful submission and pride.

"Love you, Saxo," he whispered when their mouths finally parted. "I understand you did well."

Jazz hummed softly and kept Prowl pulled close, touching their helms together. "Need to learn to do better, though." 

"You will," Prowl was confident of it. "You learn everything you set yourself to."

"Mm. How's...um...Academy," Jazz asked. "Mortar signed off on your application, right? You got in this round?"

"It is good, if dull," Prowl chuckled softly. "Yes, he sighed off and I got in. The medic was surprised at my grade of construction, but since it meant he didn't have to upgrade me, he was happy about it. I have a suspicion that I know more than some of my instructors, but I'm not telling them that."

That got a smile out of Jazz. "That is because _my_ mate has the fastest processor in this city," he hummed, trilling with pride. "I'm happy for you, my love."

"Thank you," Prowl leaned in for a quick kiss. "I hope your training program makes you as content with existence as mine is. I have missed being a social pillar."

"By social pillar, of course, you mean fun-killing rule-enforcer," Jazz teased fondly, the harmonics beneath his voice full of adoration. He sobered. "I hope it does too. So far it's...reminded me of everything I never wanted to be. And why I would still choose this in a sparkpulse."

"If it gives you what you need, even if it is not what you wanted, it is a good thing," Prowl murmured, stroking Jazz's cheek affectionately. "And yes, of course I mean fun-killing, every watchful, scary rule-enforcer that everyone knows they can trust to be fair and listen. Have they told you how long your training will be?"

"The full course is nine vorns," Jazz said. "There'll be some metacycles when I don't come home." He nuzzled into Prowl's hand.

"Will you be able to warn me when that will happen?" Prowl asked softly. The idea made his spark contract, but he could bury himself in work and survive. He'd been alone much of his existence. He knew how, and ... he did have Radiance.

"Not sure," Jazz murmured. "I'll try. Pretty strict comm allowances, too," he sighed, and looked up at his lover. "I would give anything to have a spark bond to you."

"We will," Prowl promised, though the tension rose sharply in his field. "He knows?"

Jazz answered with a wry smile as he traced the welding on his chest. "My trainer? He knows everything." He glanced around the room. "Said it was safe to talk in these, but..." His dataport spiraled open. "Prefer this."

"Familiar," Prowl nodded, relaxing as he plugged into his lover. ~Safe. I will miss you deeply when you are gone, my love.~

~As will I,~ Jazz said, sighing with contentment to feel the closeness of the hardline, firewalls lowered down to the innermost cores, systems fully peripheral. ~Said my designation out loud for the first time in ... vorns. Felt so strange.~

~I'm sure,~ Prowl continued to stroke Jazz's cheek as he settled into a position that he could recharge in, sitting in the chair with his upper chassis braced on the berth. ~Hard to believe everything that's happened so quickly. We only left two vorns ago. Now we have the beginning of a real existence. We won't need to run again, most likely. Not if we remain careful. Have you seen what I'll look like on graduation?~ he couldn't help the small flare of excitement as he offered up the two upgrade stages. The first with an Enforcer alt but unarmed and in his current dark colors, the next as a full Enforcer, black and white colors, shoulder mounted missiles and all.

~Impressive,~ Jazz purred, snuggling as close to his mate as he could get. ~Though I hope those come off, you're gonna be hard ta pin otherwise.~

Prowl's engine gave a heady rev. ~They don't come off, but they do transform into storage. Don't worry, I'm not going to give up our games over a frame mod.~

~Good,~ Jazz said firmly, then smiled a little bitterly. ~Looks like it's going to be me who's grateful that Radiance is around for you when _I'm_ too busy for a while, instead of the other way around.~

~Such is fair, and the peace that is triad,~ Prowl shared thoughts passed down to him in coding that he'd never actually known. ~You deserve a full existence, not one bound solely to me.~

~I will always be bound to you,~ Jazz said, nuzzling him. ~We just have to get some business taken care of.~

* * *

The graduation ceremony was nearing its end before a dark form slipped through the crowds and sat down next to Jazz. 

::There you are,:: Jazz said. ::I was worried they would get to him before you got here.:: 

::Work,:: Radiance said, frowning, wings held up high and tense. ::Didn't want to miss this, though.::

Jazz smiled at their occasional lover. They knew perfectly well that if not for the restrictions they'd placed on speed, Radiance would have already started courting them, which left the mech with a century or so to wait and prove he was even courting material. ::He's near the end, you haven't missed him.::

::I'm not surprised. He's too exceptional not to earn a special commendation.:: Radiance smiled at Jazz before focusing on the stage as the six mecha who had earned public comments on their potential came out.

Jazz's optics brightened the moment Prowl stepped forward, third in line, with his new black and white patrol markings and the fresh polish that made his armor gleam in the sunlight. The shoulder-mounted launchers were on display for the ceremony, and mixed in with everything else, made for a damn impressive looking mech. 

Jazz's engines immediately kicked up into a low purr, earning himself a chuckle from Radiance, who was also watching Prowl with a bit of an impressed smile.

::He's gorgeous,:: Jazz said, shivering. 

::Agreed,:: Radiance grinned at him before focusing back on the mech they both desired, listing as the two ahead of him, one a new sergeant, the other a detective. Prowl was the best of the new recruits. ::Impressive in so many ways. I've never met a mech as exceptional as Pantera.::

Jazz hummed his agreement, not even hearing the speaker as he talked about the accomplishments of the first two mecha before moving on to Prowl. ::And of all the things he could do,:: Jazz said, shaking his head fondly, ::He chooses to become a pillar of society.::

::And do so from the bottom,:: Radiance added. ::He's more than good enough to go right to officer or detective. He was created to serve, I think. Created to be of middle rank, never the commander, never the guttersmech.::

Jazz's gaze flickered over to Radiance for a moment before shifting back to Prowl, who was thanking the speaker and accepting his badge before walking over to join the first two, as the next graduate stepped forward. ::He is a skilled organizer and supervisor, and disciplinarian. But you're right. He has never desired true leadership.::

::Do you know if he was kindled or sparked?:: Radiance asked, careful to include the harmonics that Jazz did not need to answer.

::Kindled,:: Jazz said, smiling as he saw Prowl's gaze roaming the crowd, searching him out.

Radiance hummed and dropped that theory. He smiled as he met Prowl's now red gaze, unsurprised when it returned to Jazz after only a brief acknowledgement. He had a long way to go before he was truly part of what they shared, but he was glad just to have a chance at it.

::I think I am going to enjoy congratulating him,:: Jazz purred a little while later as the ceremony concluded.

::I'm sure he'll enjoy it very much,:: Radiance accepted his exclusion gracefully as they rose to work their way towards Prowl, who was working his way towards them.

"Hello, love," Jazz purred, drawing his mate into a deep kiss as soon as they reached him. "I do believe I have the most handsome mech in this city as my very own."

"I'm glad you approve," Prowl's purr was deeper, his engine upgraded and fine-tuned a bit. His field expressed a bit of embarrassment at the complement, but also that he liked it. "You're looking whole and sane."

"So far," Jazz grinned, completely ignoring Radiance in his focus on Prowl. "Do you have some free time now? I've got three joors before I need to leave."

Prowl nodded. "My first shift doesn't begin for two orns." He leaned in for a warm kiss before shifting to give Radiance a quick kiss and accepted the pat on the shoulder before the black mech left, then focused on Jazz. "Where do you wish to go?"

"How pissed would your roommates be if we were in there?" Jazz asked. "They have the rest of the orn to pack and clear out, three joors is nothing."

"They wouldn't care," Prowl chuckled, already guiding his mate towards the academy barracks. "But they aren't likely to leave if they walk in. Breaker will just ignore us. Venatio and Agito will just settle in to watch."

"As long as they don't touch," Jazz purred. "You're all mine right now."

"I doubt either of them are that crazy," Prowl chuckled, stealing another kiss and reveling in the attention of his mate.

* * *

Radiance chimed politely at the door, waited a few nanokliks, and then grinned as the predictable comm ping came in.

::What are you doing chiming at the door like a stranger!:: came the exasperated voice of his creator. ::You have the entrance codes, get up here!::

Radiance chuckled as he entered the code and stepped inside. ::This is not my residence anymore,:: he said as he headed up towards the second level of the private home and the small sitting room where he knew he would find Contact. ::Nor has it been for centuries. It would be impolite to enter unannounced, you raised me better than that.::

::I raised you to visit your creators more often is what I did,:: Contact grumbled, but as Radiance entered the room, he found the mech waiting for him with a smile and open arms.

"Hello Contact," he said warmly, happily stepping into the embrace.

"It is wonderful to see you, dear spark," Contact said, squeezing him. "Though I'm afraid it's just me you'll find here tonight."

"That's all right," Radiance assured him, and walked his creator back to the lounge he'd been resting on, moving the novel he'd been reading out of the way before sitting. "It's you I was hoping to find, anyway."

Contact's field flared out warmly and he all but preened. "Can I get you anything? I don't have much on hand at the moment, you should have told me you were coming over, but there are always a few flavors of high grade around, and we might still have some of those copper cakes if Mira didn't notice them before work..."

"I'm fine," Radiance tried to insist, but Contact seemed deaf to that, and after another dozen or so kliks, Radiance was smiling fondly and thanking his creator as he accepted a small cake and a flute of lightly carbonized high grade with a few silver shavings in the bottom.

"So," Contact said as he finally settled himself down, holding a cube of regular high grade. "What brings you all the way out here just to visit me? Because I know it's not just for a visit." He fixed his creation with a stern look.

"Why can't it just be for a visit?" Radiance asked indignantly, and when the only response was a raised optic ridge, he huffed. "All right... actually, it's because I need advice."

Contact looked delighted. "I don't think you've asked me for advice since you were a mechling," he said. "Ask away."

Radiance nodded, and fidgeted with his high grade. "It's... well, actually, I was wondering about, when you courted Mira and Brava."

"Sweetspark, you know that story," Contact said, bemused.

"Yeah, I know," Radiance said, and sighed. "I know the story, but I don't know what it was like, courting a mated pair. How to go about doing that without, I don't know, making a mess of things. What it feels like trying to win two mecha at once who are already happily mated and don't even really need a third."

There as a pause, and then Contact's optics brightened. "Have you found a pair? Are you courting for a triad?" the dispatcher asked excitedly. "You have no idea how long we've been hoping you would find a triad!"

Radiance winced a little. "Yeah, but just, slow down. There is no courting. Not officially."

"Well what's the problem?" Contact asked, frowning. "If they're not the ones courting you, as long as they're well settled and accept the offer, you should be set."

"That's...that is the problem," Radiance said. "They're not well settled. And the one I would court immediately if he weren't attached is the one I definitely _can't_ court. So I'm waiting."

"How long have they been together?"

Radiance cringed internally. "See... you're about to give me that exasperated creator look, and the problem is, you're _really_ good at the exasperated creator look."

"I won't," Contact said.

Radiance snorted. "Yes, you will."

"No, I won't."

"Fine," Radiance said. "They've been together for five vorns."

"Five-- _five_ vorns?"

"And there's the look," Radiance said with a smug smile. "Yep, exasperated creator look."

Contact scowled at him. "Radiance, dearest, a pair at five vorns, you're going to be waiting at least a century before they even know if they're truly mated, much less open to a triad."

"But they are mated," Radiance insisted. "They're more dedicated to each other than almost any pair I've ever met. And, it's bizarre, honestly. I almost have to wonder if there's spark resonance there, because they act like they've known each other their entire lives."

Contact hummed thoughtfully. "Are they aware of your interest?"

"Yes," Radiance affirmed.

"And?"

"And they're open to the idea, but they've made it clear it will be a long time before anything official starts. I've gotten away with some very, _very_ casual courting with the older one, but I don't dare try anything with the younger one, not yet."

"Why not?" Contact questioned. "He's the one you were first interested in, then? He's less settled?"

"Much less settled," Radiance said, and shook his head ruefully. "I don't know the details, but I know that he was abused, and it created a glitch that forced them to give up their sparklings, which caused...problems of its own..."

"They had sparklings at five vorns together?" Contact asked, sounding decidedly suspicious in a very Protective Creator way.

"Not together," Radiance clarified. "They were carrying when they met. Saxo--the younger--he was far too young for whatever happened and it really messed with him."

"How young is he?" Contact asked curiously.

"Er," Radiance said, already half-wincing from the look he knew he was going to get. "Somewhere around six vorns into adult upgrades..."

"Radiance!"

"He doesn't act like it though!" Radiance protested.

"That's practically a mechling!" Contact said. "Mecha that age hardly know what they want for dinner, much less in a mate!"

"This one does," Radiance insisted. "I can't teek his age, and I still have a hard time believing it just from knowing him." He paused. "Though he is kind of like a mechling when it comes to his interfacing. In that insatiable way."

"You've interfaced with him?" Contact asked.

"Them," Radiance corrected. "Always them. And yes. And ... it's good, it's really good. I know he's young and they're new, but I _know_ I want this."

Contact sighed, looking at his creation with a mix of fondness, love, and concern. "I just don't want you to get hurt again, dear spark. I trust you to know what you want, but this sounds so..."

"Crazy?" Radiance supplied.

"Crazy, yes," Contact said, nodding.

Radiance set the high grade and cake down and reached over to clasp his creator's hands warmly in his own. "I'm moving slow. We're all taking our time, none of us want to rush. I see their berth maybe every three metacycles, sometimes less. Saxo isn't even finished with his ISO training, and--"

"ISO training?" Contact interrupted, startled. "They let a mech his age into that program?"

"I told you he's special. They both are. Pantera's older, but the _processor_ on that mech, Contact, it's incredible the things he can do. I play strategy games against him a couple times a decaorn and I've never won, not once."

Silence.

"Contact?"

"Hang on, I'm torn between being impressed and irritated," Contact grumbled.

Radiance chuckled. "Be impressed. It's no slight against me."

"Hmph. Fine. So you're taking is slow, which sounds good for this situation. What were you wanting advice about?"

"Well, I know the protocol for courting a mated pair, that's easy enough," Radiance said. "Just, what's it like? Does that feeling like you're just sort of on the outside watching go away?"

"It does," Contact said, nodding, smiling gently at his creation. "It can take a while, though, especially if the pair is really well and truly devoted. Even if they both like you, there is a lot of affection to catch up on. And it can really hurt sometimes."

Radiance huffed. "Yeah," he agreed.

"But sweet spark, don't give up," Contact said. "A triad would be so good for you, you're coded and sparked to want one. And especially with your work, having three helps spread everything out and makes it more manageable. When you can't be there, or when you're hurt, they'll have each other." He hesitated. "That's what happened with Nimbus, isn't it," he said quietly, half asking, half stating. "You didn't talk about it much after he left."

"Yeah," Radiance sighed, and gave a stiff, one-shouldered shrug. "It wasn't his fault, there was just too much for him to handle."

"You've got a funny idea of not his fault," Contact said dryly. "As I seem to recall, plans for a bonding were well underway before he started--" He stopped when he saw the look on his creation's face. "That probably isn't your favorite subject."

"Not particularly," Radiance said with a wry smile. "But I don't mind. And it really _wasn't_ all his fault. If I wasn't home enough to realize what was happening, I wasn't home enough for him."

"Regular spark merging with another when you have an intended bonded is _not_ acceptable, no matter what," Contact snarled, his aggressive side making a rare appearance. "You break things off before it even starts, you don't lie about it."

Radiance tilted his head and smiled faintly. "I don't think I've heard you growl like that since I was a mechling."

"Oh, I growled a lot, you just weren't around to hear it," Contact said, then shook his head and huffed fondly, lifting a hand to Radiance's face. "You are entirely too selfless, dear spark."

Radiance grinned. "Yeah, but don't let that get around. I have a reputation to keep up."

Contact gave him a look. "Like that reputation that you're an easy 'face?"

The grin got wider. "You have _no_ idea how much more willing mecha are to go out for a casual drink when they think I'm just a slutty off-duty cop. Get a lot of testimony that way."

Contact frowned. "Yes, but..."

"Contact," Radiance said warmly. "You really think I care what street scum think of me?"

"This pair you're looking at, they respect you?"

"Of course they do," Radiance said.

"Good. Tell me about them," Contact said, happily shifting the conversation back to the future. "What could be wonderful enough to catch my stunning creation's optic."

Radiance chuckled and picked his high grade back up, relaxing back against the lounge as they talked.

Some joors later, he heard voices downstairs and then the sound of his other two creators coming upstairs to join them. He exchanged a smile with Contact, then stood and braced himself.

"Radiance!" came Mira's warm trill as she ran in and caught him in a tight hug. Brava followed right behind and instead of hugging him, cuffed Radiance around the back of the helm.

"What's this about you courting a mechling?" she demanded.

"Contact!" Radiance said, rolling his optics. "I am _not_ courting a mechling. I'm not even courting, and he's an adult."

"Uh-huh," Brava said, heading over to greet Contact with a kiss. "You tell him all about the wringer I put you through?"

Contact smiled as he stroked his mate's helm. "Oh yes," he assured her. "Luckily for him, his pair seems much more open."

"I had to make sure you were worthy of Mira," Brava purred, looking lovingly back over at the other femme and Radiance.

"We're so happy for you," Mira said, nuzzling Radiance. "You'll keep us all updated."

"Of course I will," Radiance promised. "But really, all of you, it is far too early to be celebrating."

"Our sparkling's first possible triad?" Contact said. "It's not possible for it to be too early to celebrate."

"Yes, however I am filthy," Brava announced, straightening. "Chased some drug dealers through the gutters for a while, once I'm clean we can interrogate him. Join me?" she purred as she waltzed over to Mira, stroking a finger under her chin.

Mira purred in response and Contact's wings lifted up as he watched them, his optics brightening tellingly.

"Go on," Radiance chuckled. "I'll wait here. Have you two had dinner yet?"

"Not yet," Brava said.

"Then I'll get something set out, take your time," Radiance said, and headed downstairs, smiling knowingly, to wait as his creators headed to their washrack.


	27. Settling In

"Creator's coming! Creator's coming!" Sunstreaker ran to his brother from the window where he'd spotted the Praxian Enforcer alt coming towards the estate. 

Sideswipe perked, looked at Raela, who smiled at him and waved them on their way to go greet Prowl, and first ran to the window so he could wave down before following his impatient twin out the door. 

"You two stay out of the main hallways!" Raela called after them. 

"We will!" Sideswipe promised before they dashed off through the halls, creating no small amount of havoc amidst the smooth flow of traffic as they ran towards the entrance. They burst out the door and into the waiting arms of their sire, who hugged them tightly.

"Hello, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe," Prowl nuzzled the pair.

"Hello Creator," Sideswipe said, nuzzling back, while Sunstreaker's engines purred happily to see Prowl. 

"We thought you were coming this orn," Sunstreaker said. "Raela smiles at us a lot when you're coming."

Prowl chuckled. "She knows we all enjoy it when I can come. I was thinking we would go to Jocuri's."

The identical grins he got were answer enough, and Prowl stepped back to transform, opening a door for them to climb in. 

"How long are you staying?" Sunstreaker asked as they settled down.

"Two orns," Prowl said as he drove through the servant's entrance and away from the estate. "I can't take much longer off from my duties to Praxus."

"Amberwave says you lowered yourself to working for commoners," Sideswipe said, and Sunstreaker immediately punched his brother in the arm and hissed a shushing order at him.

"He is right to be disturbed by it," Prowl said quietly. "I am worth far more than I am currently valued. That will change in time. Like all mecha, I must begin at the lowest level and work my way up. I will be an authority figure again, in time."

Sideswipe hummed, looking out the window. "That will be good," he said. 

"Very good," Sunstreaker agreed. 

"How is Saxo?" Sideswipe asked. 

Prowl couldn't help the small flicker of surprise at the shift between his last visit and this one. In less than four vorns, Sideswipe had gone from calling Jazz Carrier to using his designation. It saddened him, but it was also a good step forward in healing for the twins. Jazz could never be their creator. It was best that his creations moved away from any thought of him as other than Prowl's mate.

"He is healing, slowly," Prowl glossed over so much of what happened with Jazz. Including that he had a new function he was training for. That was information the pair did not need to know. "Radiance is doing well. He's been good for Jazz." He didn't hide that Radiance was good for him too.

"Can you bring Radiance next time?" Sunstreaker asked. "He was really cool."

"If he can get time off when I do," Prowl told them as he merged onto a major road. "He's the commander of SWAT for the precinct. He may not be allowed out of the city for this long."

"Not even one--" Sideswipe said, before Sunstreaker tackled him and clamped a hand over his mouth. 

"D'you think we can go to the race tracks tomorrow?" he asked brightly.

"I would enjoy doing that," Prowl agreed with a warm trill of genuine anticipation. "How has the vorn gone for you? Have you been behaving for Raela and Amberwave?"

"Yes," they said in unison. 

"Mostly," Sideswipe modified. 

"Raela is nicer," Sunstreaker added. 

"Her function ensures that," Prowl chuckled. "She's a caretaker. Amberwave is the estate seneschal."

"Amberwave is _boring_ ," Sideswipe said. 

"No he isn't," Sunstreaker argued. "He knows lots of things. You just have to listen." 

Sideswipe huffed, worked his way out of Sunstreaker's hold, and tackled his brother in turn, pinning him. 

Prowl simply laughed, his field rich with good humor, joy at having his creations with him and a bit of teasing. "I hope you don't think I'm boring like Amberwave."

"Nope," Sideswipe said, struggling with keeping his twin pinned. 

"Course not," Sunstreaker said, squirming, and knocked Sideswipe off. "Amberwave never smiles." 

"Yet I am a seneschal," Prowl reminded them. "My charges often complained that I never smiled. Yet I was respected by them, I cared for them, and they cared for me."

"But you smile with us," Sunstreaker said. 

"And Amberwave doesn't care about us," Sideswipe huffed. 

"Yes he does," the yellow twin argued. "He's just quiet about it. Like Creator." 

"A _lot_ quiet about it," Sideswipe said. 

"Will we be seneschals?" Sunstreaker asked, without a pause for Prowl to reply to anything. 

"He does care about you both. You are his charges," Prowl said firmly. "No seneschal worthy of the title is anything less than fully dedicated to their charge. The estates, the servants, the nobles we serve. It makes us what we are. It is possible that Sunstreaker will be able to support the seneschal upgrades, though if he does become one, he will need Sideswipe's social skills to be at his best. United you will always be stronger than individually."

Sunstreaker hummed thoughtfully at that. "I think so," he agreed. "I think I would like that." 

"Amberwave will be very pleased," Prowl told him, but the real reward was how thick the pride-joy was in Prowl's field. "Tell him, study well. A skilled seneschal with a valuable frame-line and good upgrades can be worth more to a House than its minor members. We keep the world they enjoy functioning smoothly for them. Your cover includes a quality heritage, though not quite as prestigious as the truth would be."

"Because you are the best, aren't you," Sunstreaker said proudly, cuddling against his sire. 

"Yes," Prowl smiled through his field at them. "My line is the most prestigious, and I was acknowledged as the finest they had produced that generation. It is why I was bred as often as I was before I became your sire. It is important you do not become so well known or valued while _he_ still exists, however. While you have done well to avoid detection, if you need to kindle there will be difficulties that can not be hidden."

"Like what?" Sideswipe chirped. 

"The most obvious is that if either of you are to carry, both of you and a third must be involved in the kindling. As a sire, it will be very difficult for either of you to kindle without your brother involved. You are one spark in two frames. When it comes to acts of the spark, creation, bonding and survival, you are both needed to make it work smoothly."

"Ohh," Sunstreaker said. "So mecha would know we are twins." 

"And that's what the bad mech looks for," Sideswipe hummed. "Is he going to look for us forever?"

"Until he is destroyed, yes," Prowl said grimly, making the exit for the family entertainment hub of the city that centered around Jocuri's Amusement Park. "We are working hard to do that. Until he is gone, though, it is critical that you hide as well as we are."

"We will," Sideswipe promised. "I don't want anything to hurt Sunny." 

"Or Sides," Sunstreaker said. "We're always very careful." 

"I know, and I'm very proud of you both," Prowl trilled.

"Look!" Sideswipe said, jumping up suddenly as the rides came into view. "There's my favorite one!" 

"We have all orn," Prowl chuckled as he drove in. "You do not have to return until half a joor before berth time."

The twins both trilled excitedly and bounded out of Prowl's cab as soon as he stopped, jumping up to grab his hands to pull him into the park, ready to spend the rest of the orn with their sire.

* * *

::Speeder, eighteen over, ID 9876HKTR7U23MGH7.:: Prowl commed into dispatch as his lights began to flash at the average build in front of him. Then on a scrambled line to his partner, ::He'll bolt.::

He felt Fevor's mental optic ridge raise through his partner's field. ::What makes you think--oh, and there he goes,:: he grumbled as he revved his engines up and accelerated after the speeder. ::The Pit, rookie, how do you spot those?::

::Many vorns disciplining juveniles,:: Prowl answered as he kept even with his mentor on the beat. ::There's a twitch in their field.::

Fevor's engines rumbled deeply. ::I'm supposed to be the one teaching you,:: he complained good-naturedly, weaving around a vehicle that was too slow to move to the side for them.

A quick databurst from Prowl interrupted his musings and he dedicated enough of his processors to opening the plan. A few vorns ago it would have stalled his engines. Now he simply wondered what his partner had once been that he was this now and so good at it. ::Agreed.::

Fevor tracked Prowl's movements as he nearly fishtailed to make a turn that would bring him along a not-quite-parallel course while Fevor kept their target's attention. The older Enforcer had to give his rookie credit for tenacity and lateral thinking. Most would be content to chase a speeder. Prowl needed to _catch_ , and he'd never failed at that once he set himself to it. 

He kept as many sensors as he could dedicated to monitoring his partner while he pretended to lag behind the youth they were pursuing, getting him to slow his speed to something safer on the corners, now that he seemed to have lost half of his pursuit and was outgunning the older enforcer. 

Two kliks up the road, Prowl reappeared, shooting through an intersection that had been timed to a perfect halt by the traffic drones, right where the road narrowed and with just enough space for him to cut in front of the speeder. Fevor gunned his acceleration and came up right behind the youth, lights flashing while Prowl forced the speed down, then to a stop. 

Not that their target was willing to be blocked in and be still. A transformation sequence began, and Fevor belatedly realized that his partner had begun first. It gave Prowl just enough of a lead on moving to body block the runner to the ground and pin him with little more than greater mass.

"Credits to scrap that 9876HKTR7U23MGH7 isn't his real ID ping," Prowl commented casually, causing his prey to stop struggling out of surprise.

"Mm, we'll find out soon enough," Fevor said, also transforming back into root mode to help wave traffic around before the drones could get there to redirect everything. He called in an update, then walked over to the pair. 

"Hey, mech, look," the flashy-painted youth began as the two stern-faced enforcers looked down at him. "Had the music up, didn't even realize you were back there."

"Then once we have confirmed your identity and that you are clean, you will be released with only a speeding ticket," Prowl said as he pulled the mech to his pedes for Fevor to cuff him, then escorted him to the walkway to be out of the traffic lanes.

"Yeah but...I'll be late, an' all," the youth protested. "Got work, y'know?" 

"Oh?" Fevor said conversationally as he they waited for the transport. "Where do you work?" 

"Docks," the mech said smoothly. "For Praxus Imports." 

"What's your supervisor's designation? We'll give him a comm and let him know what happened so he's expecting it." Fevor offered.

"Er..." The youth shifted uncomfortably.

"What designation do you go by?" Prowl shifted tactics a touch.

"Harper," came the well-rehearsed, casual answer. "Seriously, you gonna drag me all the way in just to verify my ID?"

"Uh-huh," Fevor said. 

"Sounds like a waste of your time, mech," Harper said.

"It's what the city pays us to do," Fevor shrugged just as easily and paused as the transport settled. "Your catch, your file," he gave Prowl a playful salute that got a dangerous grin back.

Prowl gave Harper a light push towards the arriving transport while Fevor watched, waiting until the doors sealed and it took off before reentering traffic and continuing on his patrol.

* * *

Jazz regarded the bleeding, burnt mech that was hanging by the wrists before him, head cocked, tapping his charged dagger thoughtfully against his chin, paying no attention to the way it was shocking him but pleased by the look it was putting on his prey's face. 

"Are you in a more friendly mood yet?" he asked, starting to walk a slow circle around him. "You know you could make it out of here in mostly one piece still."

"Go to the Pit," the mech spat at him.

"Been there, love," Jazz said, smirking, continuing his stroll for a few more rounds until he came in front of the mech again. He took his prey by the throat, holding the dagger under the chin, and leaned in close. "Though I bet all the interrogators use that line." He cocked his head a little and shifted his weight, angling for the best view he could give the cameras of the mech's face. "We can keep playing like this for orns if you want to, _or_ you can give me a designation. Just one, little, simple designation of your target."

"And let you know who to protect?" Defiance flared in the mech's optics despite the pain of his frame. "No."

Jazz paused, and a moment of confusion, followed by humor rippled through his field. "We're not in that business, love," he said. "The mecha we want protected _are_ protected. I want to know your target so we can keep the fallout under wraps, and make sure none of ours get caught up in your messy crossfire." He stroked a warm, gentle hand down the front of his victim's chassis, avoiding every wound without even looking, teasing at seams and plating. "After all, we caught you easy enough, and we're not interested in taking the chance of your next 'agent' getting mixed up with one of ours. And who knows, our interests might even align. You get me?" he purred.

"You work for the government," the mech spat at him.

Jazz gave him an awful, pitying smile. "No, I don't," he said, and stepped back, taking the gentle touch away. " _I_ work for credits, and because I like the way you sound when you scream, and because sparks are so beautiful when they gutter. To be honest with you, I'm hoping you won't crack." He flashed the mech a grin and pulled a torch from his subspace, flicking it on, holding the white-hot flame up. "Designation, please."

Fear flickered across the mech's face. "Who's paying you then?"

"I'm pretty sure you're the glitch hanging from the ceiling who's supposed to be answering questions," Jazz hummed. "But since you're just _so_ persuasive, I'll let you in on a little secret. My employer? Is smart enough to keep me in the dark on that detail. Just in case of this exact scenario. Tell me, is yours?" 

He stepped forward on the last glyph, weaving slightly and grabbed the back of the mech's neck to pull him in for a deep, biting kiss while the other hand reached down and slipped the torch into the open hip joint, pushing it right up against the dense metal bearing in the center.

Even if the mech was willing to answer through Jazz's kiss, his scream would have swallowed the answer, drowning out even the sound of wires sizzling and snapping in the center of the joint and the sound of metal slipping and bending, an entire frame's weight pushing down on the weakening joint.

Jazz pulled the torch out and leaned back, baring energon-coated teeth and letting his very real arousal flicker through his field, caressing along the other. "So," he purred, lifting the torch to where the mech could see it, the backs of his fingers and hands coated with liquid metal runoff. "Designation?" 

The mech's field was full of sickened fear, his frame shook, his voice wavered, but still he managed, "No." 

"Oh darling," Jazz said. "You know just what to say to make my spark race. In fact, I enjoy it so much I'll even give you a few more joors to decide whether you live or die." 

There was an odd, uncertain flicker in the mech's optics. "You'll...you'll what?" 

"You heard me," Jazz said, shrugging. "Of course, you'll be screaming the entire time, so I'd make my mind up now if I were you, and I'll get back to you on that." He licked his lips, grinned, and lifted the torch again.

* * *

Seven joors later, Jazz gave a disgusted look at the mess of metal and wires that was hanging in front of him, knocked offline from the pain, and walked out of the room, almost running into Whiplash, who had been observing the entire time. 

"Not cracking, this one," the matte black mech commented. 

"Not a bit," Jazz said, looking at the video feed of the limply swaying mech, who looked much worse than his damage actually was. "Either he's a True Believer in his cause, or he takes pain better than I do. Since I find the latter hard to believe..." 

Whiplash snorted in agreement. "True Believer then. I came to the same conclusion. Lot of those lately, startin' to concern me."

Jazz frowned. "Zealots. Think he's with the others we've had?" 

"That'd be my guess. These aren't just opportunists or assassins for hire. They _really_ believe in their cause." 

Jazz gestured at the screen. "How do you crack one of those?" 

Whiplash shook his head. "You don't. You have your fun with it, and then you put it out of its misery and you _destroy_ it. Make sure those that sent it don't ever find out, or then it'll be a martyr, and that's the last thing we want right now." 

"But--" Jazz protested. 

Whiplash squeezed his arm. "Yeah, I know. Pit, keep trying, can't hurt, and if it'll make you feel better. But everyone runs into these, not much you can do about it." 

Jazz nodded, focused on the victim on the screen, optics glittering. "He'll talk," he said. "I'm going to _make._ _Sure._ That he talks."

* * *

Two and a half orns later, Jazz stroked a single sharpened claw down the mech's back strut, and flicked the torch on right next to his audial, gaze fixed on his prey, arousal and excitement thick through his field, grinning at the way the mech was whimpering now. "That was fun," he purred, licking energon from his lips, spike jutting out and rubbing against the mech's aft. "Let's do it again."

"No," the pathetic, all but broken creature whimpered, pleaded, for the pain to stop.

"But I'm enjoying myself, don't stop now," Jazz said, pressing flush, lips to audial, torch held up clearly where the mech could see. He lowered his voice to the faintest whisper. "Come on, let me get one more round in before you give, my super'll pull me out of here and I haven't gotten off yet." 

"Why should I let you get off?" the mech rasped.

"Because I love to, especially when you're _screaming_ around me," Jazz purred. He brought the torch in closer and reached around to claw at the mech's pelvis. "Come on, _please_ , just a little more. Just say you won't tell me and they won't pull me off you yet." The torch moved down, brushed the outer edges of the flame against the spike panel. "Bet you'll scream _really_ good here." 

"Ratbat!" the mech keened, trying to pull away from the torch despite his broken frame and Jazz's mass directly behind him. "I was after Senator Ratbat."

Jazz's lips curled up and he nipped at the mech's neck, then the torch flicked off, he stepped away, and the arousal dissipated from his field. His spike slid back and he cleared his vocalizer out once, twice, shook himself, then subspaced the torch and switched it out for a blade, walking around to where the mech could see him. "Thank you," he said, and held the weapon up. "You get a choice now."

The mech just hung there, optics not even moving up towards him, so Jazz reached out and patted his cheek a few times. "Hey. Attention." He waved the knife around until he was sure the victim had seen it. "We can dump you in a cell and give you energon but no medical care, or I can drive this through your spark. It's your choice. If you don't pick one, you get the latter. More resource efficient."

Cracked red optics focused on Jazz. "The cell. I'll live because you don't want me to."

Jazz smiled. "Hardly matters to me," he said, then patted his cheek once more. "You take care." He left the room, only allowing his very unresolved arousal and frustration to bloom outwards once he was standing with Whiplash, and growled. "Fragger. Think that was his actual target?" 

"If it's not, it's a likely one," Whiplash huffed. "Ratbat's one of the worst as far as the rebels are concerned. I'm not sure even he'd disagree. Creepy, credit-centric one he is." He smiled and regarded his subordinate. "I hope your mate knows how to deal with that charge."

"He does," Jazz said, frowning. "And he better be off duty or I'm going to make such a nuisance out of myself that he'll _have_ to pursue and arrest. I can go?" 

"Clean up, and you can go," Whiplash said, nodding. 

Jazz fought not to run as he made his way up to a level where his comms could get through, twitching at the intolerably slow-feeling lift before stepping out and headed to the washracks. ::Where are you?:: he sent to his mate, trying not to growl.

::About to go to the shift passdown,:: Prowl replied with sub-harmonics thick with anticipation at seeing his mate for the first time in more than five orns. ::I'll be wherever you want me then.::

::Get your aft home,:: Jazz said, stepping under the heated solvent spray. :: _Primus_ I need a good frag, you have no idea.::

::Will do, love,:: Prowl rumbled, giving Jazz no doubt of what he had in mind, before cutting the comm. He shivered as he turned on the shower to get the worst of the surface gunk off him before going to work at cleaning himself. It was a comfortable, almost soothing routine now, and it allowed him to drive to their apartment without breaking too many laws, even as excited as he was. 

Jazz was there half a groon after he was, field and frame reeking with an unresolved charge that had been building for orns, the arousal almost too thick for even the ripple of surprise to get out when he teeked Prowl in much the same condition. He grabbed his mate in a kiss, slamming him back against the wall, grinding their frames together. "You found a chase, didn't you," he grinned, reaching down between them to press palm to Prowl's spike cover. Both covers snapped open immediately as Prowl groaned, grinding into the touch as his spike pressed out, eager to feel his mate's touch.

"Yes," Prowl shuddered, lost to his own charge and the heated welcome of his mate. "Take me, spread your legs for me, want to scream your designation and make you scream mine."

Jazz groaned, hand moving lower to press fingers into the slick valve offered to him while his own spike pressurized, rubbing flush and hot against his lover's. "Can't," he gasped, shaking. "Can't--please--just, need--" He grabbed Prowl's wrist with his free hand and pulled it down between their bodies, wrapping his mate's fingers around their spikes, thrusting into the contact with a low moan. " _Touch._ "

Prowl reached up with his free hand to cup the base of Jazz's helm and neck, drawing him into a passionate kiss while his hand stroked and squeezed, paying much more attention to the ruffles of his mate's spike than pleasuring his own, making him jerk and keen, panting and desperate for the almost painfully high charge to release.

Lubricant ran down Jazz's thrusting fingers, covering his hand, and he matched the rhythm to Prowl's movement, stroking as deep as he could with the way his arm was pinned between them. Less than ten strokes, and Jazz shouted, seizing against his lover and shooting transfluid onto his chest, his spike, his hand. His vents kicked up and he shuddered, gasping, and didn't stop the movement of his fingers in Prowl's valve.

His mate at least somewhat sated, Prowl's face came to rest against the crook of Jazz's neck as he leaned back and hooked a leg around Jazz's hip, opening himself up to the attention. Fingers weren't nearly as good as a spike, but his mate knew how to work him up and he wasn't resisting the stimulation as his valve tightened and worked the shallow penetration.

Jazz curled his arm around the back of Prowl's head as he moved, twisting his wrist and crooking at all the right angles to feel amazing without overloading him, not wanting to get Prowl _too_ satisfied before he was through. His own charge was still high, enough to keep his spike extended and throbbing despite the overload, and he wanted Prowl's to stay the same. It wasn't every orn his lover came home hot from a chase. 

"Remember that thrill," he purred against Prowl's audial, "How it feels when they take off and you get to _catch_."

Prowl shuddered with a moan, his processors immediately replaying his last chase and capture. Against the wall his doorwings quivered as he tried to thrust into the contact.

"You love it," Jazz continued, engines rumbling deeply, rocking back against his mate. "Love when they bolt, when they turn into prey, when you get to go after them, getting closer every klik..."

"Pushing my engines, my skills, calculating their every move, how to avoid traffic," Prowl shuddered, moaning as he gripped his mate's shoulders. "They don't stand a chance but they don't know it yet."

"They don't know what's after them," Jazz said, low and seductive. "They have no idea the speed and strength chasing behind, catching up, not realizing where you are..." His fingers sped up, increasing with Prowl's pants and gasps. "Not until you're right there, out of nowhere, making them try so hard to get away but they can't, they're trapped..." Jazz shifted his weight, subtle enough that Prowl didn't notice or didn't care, lost as he was. "You pounce, they struggle, and you..." 

Between one sparkbeat and the next, Jazz's fingers were there, and then they were gone, slipped away as the frame that had been pressing Prowl to the wall disappeared as the mech jumped back and danced away, grinning and unrepentant. "Catch," he purred, arms held out in open challenge. 

Prowl's powerful engine roared and he lunged, only half aware of his surroundings with his processor locked on a single goal: capture.

Jazz caught him by the shoulders, bracing against the momentum, holding Prowl there while they struggled. He made no attempt to escape, but he also refused to go down onto the ground that easily. He twisted, spinning them in a sudden half circle, and tried to reverse too quickly for Prowl to recover. It was a testament to the joors Jazz had put into combat training that Prowl hadn't at how easily he could control their movements.

Right up to the point when Prowl realized he was outmatched by skill and turned his full processor power, fuelled by the heavy charge in his systems, to pinning his mate. He shot a leg out to stop the back spin, calculated the shift in momentum and where it would stop and Jazz's center of gravity at that exact moment, all of it in a fraction of a nanoklik before they had even stopped moving, and right at that instant, shot a hand out to push Jazz at his weakest point. His opponent's stability wavered, he kicked his leg out and wrapped it around Jazz's ankle, and _pulled_ , dragging his pede out from under him and sending him toppling onto his back with a loud _thud_ and a low, startled grunt. 

Jazz twisted, hooking a leg up around Prowl's waist, getting ready to roll, but in doing so, left his legs apart, and Prowl knew exactly where to push on his shoulder to keep him pinned. 

A triumphant grin spread across Prowl's face and lustful eagerness across his field. "You're not going anywhere," he purred, shifting to rub his spike along his mate's valve cover. "I know you want this."

"Say I do," Jazz purred back, the cover snapping away immediately, even as he bucked his hips in a half-attempt to dislodge his mate, squirming in the powerful hold. "What are you gonna do about it now that you've caught me? Or are you gonna let me go?" 

"Never letting you go," Prowl rumbled hotly, the multitude of meanings he intended thick in his field, but it was all centered on his love for the mech he had pinned as he thrust into him, hot and eager with a deep moan. "Going to stretch you, fill you until we can't move, then want the same from you."

Jazz's fingers dug into Prowl's shoulders and he moaned sharply, helm falling back, struggles ceasing instantly. " _Frag_ yes," he gasped, his aching valve tightening in around his lover, hot and slick and oh so eager. " _Yes_ , 'Tera, hard, please, _hard_."

With a growling rev Prowl did just that, bracing his frame to give his mate the hardest pounding he was capable of and running his advanced processors at full capacity on nonsense work to suck up as much of the building charge in his system as possible. He could hold out for two or even three of his mate's overloads this way, and he loved it, loved feeling Jazz writhe beneath him and hearing him scream his ecstasy as he shook and bucked in desperate overload, clawing at Prowl's shoulders and clamping his legs around his waist. 

When Jazz's helm _slammed_ back into the floor and his entire frame arched up in an overload powerful enough to lift Prowl up just from the strength of the charge, he couldn't hold himself back. With a bellowing roar of his own, Prowl overloaded hard, flooding his mate with his charge and the fluid to carry it to every sensor in Jazz's valve.

He was still twitching, thrusting faintly, when they sank to the floor in a dazed bliss.

After a klik, Jazz gathered himself, lowered his legs and struggled up, supporting Prowl's weight with his own as he moved, purring against him, armor loose and venting. "Not done with you yet," he whispered against his audial, and nipped, then managed to get Prowl back up to his pedes and backed him into their berthroom. Prowl did help, but he was only partially coordinated despite his best efforts. Jazz shoved him back and forced him into a sit, grinning, before dropping to his knees and pushing his lover's thighs apart, burying his face in that parted junction, wet with both their fluids, and x-vented against the still-bared valve.

A low moan, full of eager want, came with Prowl spreading his legs further and rolling his hips to give Jazz even better access. "Never want you done with me."

"Never gonna be," Jazz promised, and swirled his glossa around the slick opening, teasing at the platelets that quivered from the touch, moaning softly at the taste. 

He licked and pressed, humming deep into his mate's valve, while taking his own spike in hand and rubbing slowly, working both of them back up. Once he had Prowl gasping and trembling beneath him he pulled back and pressed one more heated kiss right over the gripping, quivering opening, hearing his lover's begging keen. He shivered, lifted himself, lined up, and _pushed_ , piercing the slick valve in a single thrust.

It was a distinctly different angle, and not an easy one to get much depth or strength behind, but the way it made Prowl bow his back to roll his hips further into Jazz, opening his legs more, was well worth it for those first moments.

Prowl's willingness to endure the shallow thrusts was limited and it wasn't long before he grabbed his mate by the shoulders and pulled him forward and he shimmed sideways, bringing them both on the berth with a bit of cooperation from Jazz, and at the first full, deep thrust, he cried out, clutching Jazz to him. 

"Fill me, spread me wide, give me everything you have!" Prowl keened, writhing shamelessly under his lover.

Jazz growled deep in his chassis, reaching back to grab Prowl's leg and yanked up, forcing his legs wide apart. He settled his weight, pulled out, and then struck _deep_ , before setting a harsh, pounding rhythm into his love. He groaned and buried his face against Prowl's neck, free hand clutching at the padding of the berth, gripping it so hard his fingers shook from the tension. "Mine," he gasped, shuddering and straining. "Mine, _mine_ to have and fill and take."

"Always," Prowl moaned, giving himself fully to the experience without a single reservation.

* * *

It had been twenty vorns since he and Jazz had escaped from Vortex, but the near-anniversary wasn't what had him so excited. The other Enforcers who saw him simply smiled and assumed he was looking forward to going home a bit more than usual and he let them believe it. He wasn't going to lie, but no one asked so he didn't tell. He gave his mate a quick location ping, just to make sure they'd see each other as soon as possible and made quick work of the drive to an apartment that had been home for almost 95% of their time as mates.

Jazz was lounging inside, stretched out on his back and holding a datapad up, reading whatever was on it, but as soon as he heard the door opening he tipped his head back and let his engines kick into a welcoming purr. "Hello, love," he greeted warmly. 

"Hello, my love," Prowl purred in reply and came over to kiss Jazz upside down. "Feel like taking a drive? I have something I'd like to show you."

Jazz hummed happily and pulled Prowl back into the kiss for another long moment. "Sure," he said, sitting upright and quirking a smile at his lover. "Though don't think this gets you out of being pounced." 

"I would hope not," Prowl grinned and drew Jazz into an embrace, allowing his non-aroused excitement to fully envelope his love. "But when we come back. I really hope you like what I want to show you."

Jazz tilted his head curiously, teeking the joyful flavor in his mate's field. "I'm sure I will," he said, and held his arm out for Prowl to lead the way, following him out to the street where Prowl transformed and drove him across the city to a residential sector that Jazz had never been to. It was nice, too. Not where nobles lived, but definitely outside what he thought of even with both their incomes. The higher towers would have an amazing view of some part of Praxus no matter what direction you faced.

Prowl pulled over and transformed in front of a building that wasn't the tallest, but was definitely upscale. He held out his hand to Jazz with a smile and nodded to the doormech when the perfectly polished nearly unarmored femme bowed to them and opened the door.

Jazz glanced at her as they passed, then back to his mate. "Pantera, what...?" he asked as he followed into the decorated lift.

"You'll see," Prowl smiled mischievously in the privacy of the lift, relaxing in his excitement as they traveled upward. It wasn't headed to the top floors, but it was high enough to have a spectacular view of the downtown lights at night. "I don't want to ruin the surprise."

"Bet I could coax it out of you," Jazz purred, nuzzling him, field rippling with curiosity and anticipation, when the lift stopped and flashed the need for a code, which Prowl entered promptly. As soon as he had, the lift moved again, changing its direction. 

"I'm sure you could, but you'll see in a moment," Prowl chuckled and tipped Jazz's face up for a kiss that his mate gladly returned.

The movement stopped and the lift opened on a different side than they had entered, behind Prowl, who turned and put his hand on the small of Jazz's back as they stepped out. A spacious entry room, very minimally furnished or decorated, greeted Jazz's bright optics, but his attention was drawn to what lay beyond. It seemed like the entry room opened into space with the vista of central Praxus, though distantly Jazz recognized that he was actually looking through into an empty room beyond with huge windows and no noticeable furniture.

"Pantera," he murmured, looking around before walking forward into the larger room, Prowl following quietly. "Wow, this is...wow," was all he could say for a moment as he looked out the view, then turned towards his lover with a half-grin. "You confiscate this place or something?"

A low chuckle greeted that and Prowl braced his love. "No, we've finally paid off all our debts. With my investments, we can afford it. If you like it, that is."

" _Like_ it?" Jazz repeated, mildly stunned as he looked around again, imagining this as _his_ to build as a home. "'Tera, this place is amazing! We can really afford this? And--oh, right there, there's a sculpture that would look _perfect_ there," he said, stepping away, and _really_ looked the entire, giant room over, instantly seeing arrangements, decorations, ways to section it into multiple rooms... He spun a few times, grinning hugely, then looked out the window before turning to his lover. "Yes, _yes_ I like it!" He paused, looked around. "Is there a berthroom?"

Prowl laughed, warm and delighted at being able to create such joy in his mate. "Upstairs," he pointed above and behind them to where a balcony and grand staircase suitable for making presentations on opened into the two story high main room. "Three rooms and a full washrack, and an oil pool large enough for three on one of the balconies. They can be berthroom, offices, library, entertainment, private space, whatever appeals to you."

Jazz purred, stepping close to Prowl and resting one hand lightly on his mate's chest, his gaze still jumping around, unable to stop himself from making plans. Finally he looked back into Prowl's optics. "Ours, really ours?"

"Since you like it, yes," Prowl nodded. "I made inquiries but not a contract yet. I wanted to make sure you didn't want a different view or something. I know it is solidly Praxian in aesthetics."

"I have spent my lifetime falling in love with all things Praxian," Jazz purred, doorwings lifted high, full of excitement. "How soon can we move in?"

"Within half a decaorn, if all goes well," Prowl nudged his lover towards the internal lift to go upstairs the easy way. "Two rooms have similar views to this," he waved towards the floor to ceiling vista. "The washrack and third room are interior."

"You do realize how long it's going to take us to break this place in," Jazz said, stepping forward as the lift stopped, looking out over the city for a moment before grinning at his lover.

"Yes," Prowl grinned back with a heady rumble. "And it will take you a long time to decorate it, tweak it, make it exactly what you want."

Jazz hummed in pure, honest anticipation of getting to do that, a task that settled a spark-deep need in him. "I can't wait," he said, turning back to Prowl and pressing against him, pulling him into a deep kiss. "Thank you," he murmured.

"You are welcome, my love," Prowl purred and kissed him again.


	28. Meeting the Younglings

"I've seen you calmer prepping to raid gunrunners," Prowl commented with a mixture of amusement and concern as the public transport came in for a landing in Polyhex. "They don't know you're coming. You can entertain yourself during the day while I'm with them and they'll never know you backed out."

Radiance startled slightly when Prowl spoke, having been staring out the window at the city, completely lost in his thoughts. "I'm already all the way out here, might as well," he said, trying to sound casual. He stood and stretched as soon as they were stopped, not completely able to hide the nervous tilt to his doorwings. "And I've met them before."

"And they like you as well," Prowl smiled slightly, settling in line behind Radiance to leave the transport, leaving the dark mech no doubt as to how excited Prowl was to see his creations for the first time since their youngling upgrades. "They're always in a good mood, too. The zoo is a popular way to spend the orn."

"How would they know they like me when they haven't seen me since they were less than a vorn?" Radiance asked as soon as they had stepped out. "And it was less than a joor, even."

"They remembered you well enough to ask to see you, repeatedly," Prowl shrugged his doorwings as they worked their way to the street, their heavy and distinctively marked Enforcer frames making way for them more than either demanded movement. "I don't talk about you _that_ often."

"I'm flattered," Radiance teased before transforming and revving his engines playfully. Prowl chuckled and joined him on the road, taking the lead in the drive he was familiar with. As it always was since Prowl had earned his Enforcer markings, traffic reacted to make their movements easy. They didn't look like local Enforcers, but the markings were almost universally similar but for city emblams and mecha reacted accordingly. It was still new enough to still be moderately novel for Prowl, but Radiance didn't pay it any mind.

He followed Prowl through the city to the nobles' quarter, then off the road to the servants' entrance located around the back, avoiding the roads that the nobles and their family would use completely, transformed, and lingered several steps back. Prowl headed right to the visible entrance, which opened almost immediately, and two streaks, one red and one yellow, ran out, heading straight for his open arms. 

It was warming, and adorable, and triggered more of Radiance's creator coding along with a stronger desire to claim Prowl as a mate. Prowl's interactions as he held and nuzzled the pair, then leaned back to check their new frames, were just as sweet as watching him when they were so much younger.

Eventually, Sideswipe pointed to the dark Praxian hovering in the distance and grinned.

Radiance grinned back. "So you remember me," he said. 

Sideswipe nodded and squirmed out of Prowl's arms, running over, holding out his arms and spinning, showing off the upgrades. "Do you like it?" 

Radiance knelt down to be closer to the sparkling's height. "I do, but it's going to make it hard for you to be sneaky with bright colors like that," he said seriously. "You'll stand out too much in the dark." 

"I don't mind," Sideswipe said, cocking his head up at the visored mech, then looked at Prowl and pointed at Radiance. "Is he your mate yet?"

Radiance almost choked. 

"Not yet," Prowl chuckled and stood to walk over, Sunstreaker watching carefully from his sire's side. "It is unsuited to have a third before you've been with your mate at least a century."

"Then I can't wait for a century to be over," Sideswipe announced cheerfully, and then in a flip that reminded Radiance painfully of Jazz, turned serious again. "How is Saxo?" he asked, very politely, sounding like it was a question asked out of habit rather than actual interest.

"He's doing well," Prowl responded in much the same way, a rote answer for a rote question. "Who wants to go to the zoo today?"

"Yes!" Sideswipe said, jumping, while Sunstreaker brightened. "The Lords' creations went last metacycle and they won't stop talking about it!" He looked at Radiance. "You're coming, right? Can I ride with you?" 

"'Course," Radiance grinned, before looking at Prowl. "If it's all right with Pantera."

"Of course," Prowl chuckled and stepped away from Sunstreaker to transform, opening his door for Sunstreaker to climb in.

Radiance followed suit, letting Sideswipe bound in, and kicked his engines on with a bit more rev than really necessary, and felt the answering flare of excitement from the youngling. 

"How fast can you go?" Sideswipe asked. 

"Very fast," Radiance answered. 

"You should beat creator there," came the conspiratorial whisper. 

"We will both be obeying the posted limits," Radiance said. "Which you should always do, for your own safety and for those around you." He felt the droop. "Hey, I'll tell you a secret, though." 

Sideswipe perked. "Okay!" 

"Your creator loves to race, and sometimes he's even faster than me." 

Sideswipe grinned. "That's awesome." 

Radiance smiled through his field, and once his passenger had settled down, sent a comm over to Prowl. ::Sunstreaker's still pretty shy, huh? I see that hasn't changed much.::

::No, they are still very similar to the vorn-olds you knew,:: Prowl's warm affection was clear over the comm as they headed out. ::Sideswipe is the social one.::

Radiance chuckled, keeping track of the red youngling's excited chatter at the same time. ::Yes, I see that too.:: He paused for a moment, hesitating, then, ::'Saxo?':: Prowl didn't talk about his visits or the younglings very often, and never when Jazz was around, and the very proper designation use had caught Radiance off guard.

::They stopped referring to him as a creator at five vorns. I'm half surprised it took that long,:: Prowl admitted. ::I expect they'll stop asking or mentioning him completely before you can court us.::

::That's... too bad, but unsurprising,:: Radiance sighed. His engines rumbled in a growl that he quickly throttled back before Sideswipe could notice. ::If I could get my hands on Sideswipe's spark sire--:: he began, then cut himself off, unsure if that was a welcome topic of conversation.

::Get in line, not that there will be anything left when Saxo's through with him,:: Prowl said grimly. ::Mech's a monster.::

::So I've noticed,:: Radiance said, and debated whether to push for more information for a few moments, before deciding now was not the time. Vorns of careful questions had gotten him nowhere closer to that answer, he could wait vorns more until they were ready to tell him, centuries if he had to. He edged up closer to Prowl in their lane, enough for the other Enforcer to feel his field, and all the warm affection he felt for them. Prowl replied with a mixture of affection, warmth and thanks.

"That is too close," Sideswipe said. 

Radiance chuckled and eased back. "If I were a civilian. I've been trained how to drive very well. But you're right, even I should still drive safely whenever possible." 

Sideswipe nodded his satisfaction, and Radiance drove in silence the rest of the way, listening to the youngling talk nonstop about everything he could think of. It was clear to Radiance that both Prowl and Sideswipe knew the way to the zoo well, and it wasn't really a surprise. With forty-five visits, the selection of destinations that were good for such young mecha was limited.

They pulled up to the sidewalk and allowed the new younglings out, then transformed and Radiance got to watch Sideswipe all but assault Prowl for attention before the adult expertly distracted him with the promise of creatures once they paid the fee to enter.

"You're very good at that," Radiance purred, standing close enough that he thought only Prowl could hear him. "I hope I'll get a chance to watch you raise another sparkling, some orn." 

::Quite possibly _ours_ ,:: Prowl smiled back, his own purr deep and field playful and serious.

::If everything goes my way, yes,:: Radiance answered with a grin, and then was startled by the voice that came from near his knees.

"You're going to have another sparkling?" Sunstreaker looked up, uncertain and a little hurt.

"Not anytime soon," Prowl said firmly. "Saxo has to be ready to raise a sparkling before we try again."

"Saxo hates sparklings," Sunstreaker muttered, mood darkening just at the mention of his carrier. Radiance gave Prowl a startled look. 

"I know," Prowl said as he knelt to hug the yellow youngling, not hiding one bit of how sad and hurt the truth left him. "But mecha can change, and I hope, eventually, I can change that about him too. Now enough talk of bad things," he forced himself to brighten. "Let's get in line so we can see the exhibits, and you can even sketch some this time, since Radiance can entertain your brother."

Sunstreaker brightened considerably at the prospect and the pair behaved, unnaturally well in Radiance's opinion, in line with Prowl.

::It comes with having a strong and caring disciplinarian always on hand to monitor them,:: Prowl answered the look as they paid admission and entered what amounted to another world in the form of force field cages that separated the creatures dangerous to each other but otherwise allowed the animals to roam freely in large expanses. Once logged into the zoo's datanet, their HUDs brought up names and data on each item, animal or plant, mecha, bio-mecha, transtech or organic, that they focused on.

They had barely half a klik to stand and look around, Radiance automatically looking around for the layout of the new location and tracking routes and obstacles, before Sideswipe was tugging at his hand. 

"This way!" the red youngling said, pulling ineffectually at the adult frame. "Come _on!_ The new things are this way! Steeler said they're really cool!" 

"Lord Steeler," Prowl corrected his creation. 

"Right right yeah, but _this_ way!" 

Radiance smiled and gave in to the pulling, following along after Sideswipe, who led the rest of them through crowds that only parted because of the Enforcer markings that the adults wore. Radiance caught more than a few dark looks shot their way from the fringes, something he wasn't used to. In Praxus, Enforcers were respected, but here, it seemed, that was not the case. 

"There!" Sideswipe said, drawing his attention back, pointing towards an exhibit that had a large gathering around it. The exhibit pulled up as a Chaar spider, a dangerous creature capable of killing their kind, listed as extremely hazardous. Sideswipe squirmed his way through the onlooking crowd, getting up right next to the force field, looking into the cavernous enclosure.

Radiance found himself very grateful for the force field when he saw the bulk of the creature moving near the dark rock walls, designed to resemble the habitat it had been captured from. 

"What does it eat?" Sideswipe asked. 

Radiance skimmed over the data he had pulled up so the youngling wouldn't have to. "Energy leeches are their primary source of fuel," he answered. "Though it is capable of consuming most living things." He felt Prowl come up next to him, having worked his way through the surrounding mecha at a more polite speed.

Sunstreaker went to stand next to his brother, then just slightly in front of him in a protective stance. "Which means it will eat _us_ too."

"Yes, but it can't get through the field," Radiance tried to reassure the yellow youngling, rapping at the barrier in demonstration. 

Sunstreaker frowned at him. "Just because it never has, doesn't mean it never will." 

Radiance tilted his head. "By that logic, everything in this zoo could escape all at once, but the chances of that happening are almost nothing."

"A probability of 0.00000001641% given the publicly available information," Prowl supplied smoothly. "Lower, given that backup and security systems are required to have at least one level not in the public database."

"How can you know that?" someone next to them asked with an unpleasant sub-harmonic.

"Which part, Sidecross?" Prowl asked blandly, looking at the indistinct mid-sized grounder and pulling up all available data on him.

The mech jerked as if burned. "How...."

"Public information," Prowl regarded him calmly. "An ID ping links to a designation and other basic information that anyone can access. Which part of my calculation do you question?"

Radiance shifted to keep his doorwings trained on the younglings while he faced the mech, disturbed by a teek of his unfriendly field and the sudden amount of attention they had from all around. While to most Prowl wouldn't come across as anything but stiffly formal, Radiance knew him well enough to recognize the tension and activation of stage one combat protocols.

Everything was broken by a youngling's growl as small yellow and red frames came to their creator's side and glared up at the much larger mech. They got that far before Prowl firmly shifted them back and took a partial step forward, displaying for all that these were his creations and he was not going to let them be damaged in a potential confrontation. He also blatantly marked himself as the dominant protector of the pair despite Radiance being better in a brawl.

"It's all right," Radiance said as soothingly as he could, and simultaneously ran one hand along the top edge of Prowl's doorwing and reached down to rub the back of Sunstreaker's neck. "They're just talking, that's all. It's easy to forget that not everyone has the same interests. And I'm _sure_ this nice mech is just curious about standard security backup protocols."

The warning was noted by several in the crowd, and Prowl's tension relaxed slightly. Sunstreaker's engine continued to growl softly, but the younglings complied with their creator's wish to stay back. Radiance had no doubt, even without a word between them, that Prowl expected him to take the younglings to safety should this turn ugly.

"How do you know about hidden security being required?" Sidecross asked almost lamely.

Prowl let him have the out gracefully. "Enforcer," he tapped the Praxian insignia on his chest plate. "It is my duty to know the laws. While the number of security features required to be kept from public access records vary by jurisdiction, the single level is an Imperial law, and thus applies to all collections with potentially dangerous creatures. Praxus requires four. I did not determine what Polyhex requires for my calculation and thus used the Imperial minimum."

"Right, well, yeah, that makes sense," the mech said, looking extremely uncomfortable with all the attention all of a sudden. 

"I think so too," Radiance said smoothly, flashing a grin at him. "And while I know I find obscure legal protocols _fascinating_ , we did have to pay to get in here, and I'd hate to waste that fee. If you'd like, we could meet up for drinks later, to discuss publicly accessible protocol further?"

"Or not," Sunstreaker muttered quietly.

"I ... okay, whatever," Sidecross muttered and tried to quietly slip from the scene.

Prowl flared a warmth to Radiance before he turned to kneel in front of his creations. "While I appreciate that you're so eager to help defend me, I don't want either of you in danger."

"He felt mean," Sideswipe said, frowning and worried. "He shouldn't be mean to you when you didn't do anything." 

Radiance huffed to himself in silent agreement, carefully watching the mecha around them as Prowl soothed his creations. He was seeing surprise, confusion, and still some lingering, open hostility, but nothing that posed a threat, until a working frame shifted forward. Radiance flared his wings high in warning and the mech growled, then spat on the ground next to Prowl. 

"Enforcers are all self-righteous, noble-serving whores," he rumbled. 

Before Prowl could react, Radiance had sidestepped around him and was grabbing the mech by the collar and hauling him away from his lover and the younglings, pinging the zoo security staff. "I think you've had too much high grade," he said cheerfully. "Maybe best if you go settle down a bit."

"Going to put me in jail for it?" the mech hissed.

"We're Praxian Enforcers," Prowl pointed out in that calm, cool way that he reflexively fell into when dealing with riled mecha as he stood. He kept his creations close to him, his doorwings flared wide to keep track of everyone, but otherwise he was calm and centered and presented a completely professional air that Radiance approved of deeply. "This is not our jurisdiction, nor is what you did anything to even be reported. Anger is not a crime."

Radiance felt the startled surprise from all around them as security arrived. 

"He just needs a quiet place to sit for a while," he said, in response to the questioning looks. "Everyone's a bit excitable this orn, it seems like." 

"But he just said..." the mech said, glancing at Prowl. 

"That he wouldn't report you, which is not what I'm doing," Radiance said. "I'm here to enjoy an orn as a civilian, and verbal harassment is not something I feel like putting up with." 

"'S against policy to harass other guests," the security mech said, gesturing with his head. "Got a place you can sit for a while if you don't want to leave. Last warning, though." 

"Yeah all right," the mech muttered, and gave Prowl another dirty look before he was escorted away. 

Radiance watched for a moment, then shook his head and let his doorwings relax back down as he turned towards Prowl. ::Primus, that was almost a mess.::

::Yes, they've been getting worse every vorn,:: Prowl agreed sadly. "Why don't we check out the flutterbots?"

"Boring," Sideswipe declared, while Sunstreaker perked at the idea. 

"How about we all go see the flutterbots, and then when you get too bored, we'll go look at whatever else you want while Sunstreaker draws them?" Radiance suggested, then smiled warmly at the yellow brother. "If you do want to draw them, that is."

"He does, even if he won't admit it," Sideswipe teased his brother as he grabbed the yellow youngling's hand and tugged him towards the Flutterbot Pavilion dome with its warm air and winding paths on two levels with thick growths of crystal and mecha plants.

"Thank you," Prowl said softly as they walked behind the younglings.

Radiance dared to reach out and run his fingers up along Prowl's arm. "You're welcome, though it's no trouble," he said. "Sideswipe is a joy. They both are, but I think he actually likes me," he chuckled.

"They both do," Prowl smiled at him briefly before focusing on the youngling. A quiet whistle made them stop and come back, keeping up their rate of movement without getting more than a couple paces ahead of Prowl. "Sideswipe is just much quicker to show it. Sometimes I think Sunstreaker has a more difficult time governing his emotions."

Radiance regarded the younglings. "He is very reactive," he agreed. "I imagine it will become easier as he grows. Certainly so if his carrier is any indication," he added with a fond smile at Prowl.

"I hope so," Prowl admitted to his worries. "He has the processors to be exceptional, if he can learn self control. I just worry that my influence isn't enough."

"Enough to counter... his spark sire?" Radiance asked, carefully. This was another area the pair was restrictive about when it came to information. "Or Saxo's influence?"

"Both, honestly, but mostly the first," Prowl's tone softened considerably at the thought of his mate. "Saxo isn't exactly what you call calm, and...." a small shudder passed down Prowl's frame, drawing both younglings to him for soft reassurances. ::And the trauma of having Saxo turn on them. I'm just a worried creator who can't have much influence on his creation.::

Radiance offered as much support as he could through his field. ::I'm sorry,:: he said softly as he watched Prowl interacting with his creations, his own spark throbbing almost painfully with just how much he wished he could fix this for all three of them, and the knowledge that he couldn't. ::I know how much they mean to you.::

::Thank you,:: Prowl brushed affection back and once the twins were settled and running again he stood and brushed his doorwing against his lover's. "If they don't want a place where they are now, maybe they'll return when they're mechlings." His tone was distinctly wistful, the sound of a mech that knew just how unlikely things were go to his way, but still willing to hope that he'd beat the odds. "I'm glad I can visit as often as I do and they still like me."

"What's not to like? They adore you," Radiance said, and grinned, lowering his voice into a purr. "They aren't alone, of course." 

Prowl's doorwings shivered faintly as his interface systems heated. ::Keep that up and you aren't going to get any rest tonight.:: He absently scanned a credit stick for two flutterbot fuel cups and picked up the faint pink, sickly sweet smelling liquid. "Who wants to feed them?"

"Me!" the twins said in unison, even Sideswipe looking excited about what he had previously deemed a boring venture. 

Radiance chuckled and shimmered his field playfully along Prowl's as they sat down to watch the younglings dash off to feed the flutterbots. ::You were expecting to rest tonight?:: he teased.

::I was not going to presume,:: Prowl chuckled and leaned into him, his field playful and hungry. ::Not on our first night alone together.::

Radiance hummed with pleasant surprise that Prowl had taken his flirting seriously, something he'd been privately hoping for. ::Neither was I,:: he admitted softly. ::I will admit...I wasn't sure you'd be open to the idea.::

While Prowl's sensors and optics were on his creations, he was warm and content to be enveloped in Radiance's field and offered the same. ::I like you. I will never pretend that there is a question between you and Saxo if I had to choose, but I do like you, and I do want a triad when he's ready. Saxo and I talked this over before I invited you and again before we left. He's not thrilled about it, but I believe him when he says he's okay with it in these circumstances. It would be different in Praxus, or if it happened often, but we all know it won't.::

Radiance nodded, and quietly longed for when the pair would be open to being officially courted, and after that... a successful courting, if he pulled it off, if they were still interested, if _he_ was still interested, and he would be able to join in their spark bond. 

But that was centuries in the future, and only one outcome of many. Radiance tucked those thoughts away and settled his hand on the back of Prowl's neck, rubbing the cabling there. ::All teasing aside... I just think you might need some comfort after seeing them.::

::I do tend to mope these nights,:: Prowl admitted, soft sounds escaping him at the comforting, relaxing and lightly pleasurable touch. ::I admit, it will be nice just to be held by someone I care about, who cares for me, and likes them. As much as I love Saxo, it hurts to leave them every time.::

::And you haven't had anyone to miss them with you for a long time,:: Radiance murmured. ::I think this will be good for you.::

::Yes,:: Prowl agreed, watching as Sunstreaker was more than content to be still and watch as the brilliantly colored, reflective and lighted little mecha-animals fluttered around him and settled for the special energon in his cup. Sideswipe, predictably, was starting to fidget. ::He'll be most grateful if you go rescue him from his brother's contemplative mood.::

Radiance chuckled, leaned over to steal a quick, almost daring kiss, and stood. "Hey Sideswipe," he called, catching the red youngling's attention. "The schedule says they're feeding the Chaar spider soon, wanna go watch with me?"

"Yeah!" Sideswipe leapt to his pedes, grinning madly, and ran over to Radiance, though neither adult missed the attempt at a subtle check with Prowl that it was really okay.

"Go on," Prowl smiled. "I trust him to take good care of you."

* * *

After they had dropped Sideswipe and Sunstreaker off at the estate, since they weren't allowed to spend the night on the premises, Radiance and Prowl headed to the nearby hotel that Prowl stayed at for his visits. The drive over was quiet, with few words exchanged between them, neither of them in much mood to talk. 

Watching Prowl hug his creations before leaving, even with the repeated promises that they would be back in the morning, had been harder than Radiance had expected. His lover cared for his creations a great deal, and it was visibly difficult for him to leave them, even for one night. Radiance didn't want to imagine him saying goodbye for the vorn, even if he knew he was going to witness that in less than two orns. 

They got up to their room, modest, comfortable, generically decorated in an attempt to feel welcoming and homey, and Radiance was almost surprised to find just one berth. Despite their earlier flirting, he hadn't been sure if Prowl would actually want company. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped behind him, running his hands down Prowl's backstrut, calling up the lowest setting of the mag systems, just enough to help him massage the plating.

Prowl groaned in welcome and pressed into the touch, his field loosening slightly and licking along Radiance's in a mixture of thanks and apology.

Radiance pressed his mouth to the side of Prowl's neck, kissing softly. "Why sorry?" he murmured, carefully working his hands down.

"We spent half the orn working each other up, and I'm not sure I have it in me to be much of a lover tonight," Prowl murmured with a shiver. His frame wanted to respond, but his spark and processors were too heavy to find interest in that kind of pleasure. Reflex garnered enough that he could fake it, that he could be slick or hard as desired, but he respected what he was trying to build with Radiance too much for that lie.

Radiance nodded in acceptance and understanding, and said as much with his field, unconcerned by the choice and with no judgment or ill feeling towards Prowl. He kept massaging, focusing on trying to relieve the massive amount of tension he could feel in the frame rather than trying to arouse. "May I still hold you?" he asked, voice quiet.

"I'd like that," Prowl let his optics flicker off and leaned slightly into Radiance's presence, willing to submit, to be guided, to simply not have to be the strong one for a few joors. "It's ... nice ... to have you here."

Radiance hummed and took Prowl's weight back onto himself, working his thumbs into the small dips between joints, pressing them on taut cabling. "Nice not to have to be the one holding everything together," he guessed carefully. "Saxo relies heavily on you. And in this one thing, you can't turn to him." 

"No, I can't," Prowl shuddered. How long had it been since he'd had another to lean on? Not since his carrier deactivated. It seemed like lifetimes ago. Very long lifetimes ago. To have that again ... a low, soft moan of want escaped him, motivating him to find the berth and snuggle against Radiance in much the way he had with his carrier when duties were too much for him. His field fluctuated wildly as his processor began to lay down connections of Radiance being _support_.

Radiance's field, in turn, stayed calm, soothing, accepting, arms wrapped around his lover, stroking the back of his helm and running fingers along his spine. "Have you ever allowed yourself to grieve for them?" he asked after a long silence. 

Something twitched in Prowl's field. Something between confusion, pain and self-hate that made no sense at all.

"Allowed myself....?" Prowl pressed close as pain, very old pain, lanced up from his spark and he tried to bury it with moderate success. "I took the three orns that is recommended for my type."

Radiance's gaze flickered in surprise and sudden worry. "Your 'type'...?" he echoed, and pushed himself up, meeting Prowl's optics and pressing palm to cheek. "Pantera...you gave away _your creation_ , you don't recover from that in three orns!"

"It should. It worked for the other three," Prowl murmured, refusing to meet Radiance's visor as it sank in just how much he'd given away by speaking to someone other than Jazz about his past like this. "It mostly worked for my creators, my first mate. I shouldn't have even wanted to visit the first time. I'm coded to care for my charges and let them go when it's time."

Radiance didn't answer for a long, awful moment, the hand shifting up to stroke Prowl's helm as he regarded his lover. "Three," he murmured, almost to himself, then, "That almost sounds like..." He trailed off, catching a glimpsing flash through Prowl's field, a plea not to push down that road. "Something was different this time," he said, switching tracks. "It made you want to visit, it means you need to take more than three orns to grieve."

"I know their designations. I met them," Prowl sighed, pressing into the contact but refusing to look at his lover. "I thought ... I thought for most of two vorns that I'd raise them. I knew it was going to be difficult. Saxo's so young, and already traumatized, but he loved them, or he thought he did, before they emerged. I really thought that I'd finally get to raise my creation. I know better, and I still do this to myself every vorn."

"They love your visits, I could tell that much in a sparkbeat," Radiance said quietly, trying not to think about what it meant that Prowl hadn't known the designations of three creations. "You're still bringing them joy by being part of their lives. And there is no shame, no sin, in visiting them, loving them. But you're _in pain_ and you're not letting yourself feel it." 

Prowl was still for a long, thoughtful time as he worked his way through that.

"I'm not sure how to," he finally decided, his voice low and uncertain. "I had work to do, always, and Saxo to keep me sane enough to function. I wasn't created to grieve for long."

"No matter what your processors was created for, sparks still need to grieve," Radiance said, moving his hand down to Prowl's chest for a brief moment. "And I think it's affecting your efficiency. I learned more about what you are in one sentence than I have in a half century, and..." He hesitated, his own flicker of grief coming through. "I don't think that was intentional." 

"What did you learn?" Prowl tried not to tense, but he knew he did. He knew he'd slipped more than once already, but it felt so impossibly _good_ to not be the strong one. It had been so long since he'd had someone to lean on, someone to support him.

"There are only two classes for which it is accepted and expected that they give their creations away at the whim of others," Radiance said, slowly, gently, rubbing his thumb along Prowl's forehelm. "Slaves and servants. You're not a slave, you wouldn't be able to function in society like you do. And even among servants, not every type is, is bred," he said, hesitating for a moment on the glyph that was considered offensive when used in reference to a commoner. "For a long time I thought you were sparked, or maybe even a pre-prog, but you aren't. You're kindled, and still very specifically coded and designed." His voice dipped low. "You were made for one purpose, coded and designed, a living work of art...you could rule this planet if you wanted it, but you don't have that kind of ambition. You exist to serve on such a level that it actually brings you pleasure. You have slave coding, or a slave was your spark sire." He met Prowl's optics. "How am I doing?"

Prowl could only tremble as genuine terror bubbled up. He knew he'd said more than he meant, but he never thought he'd said _that_ much. This mech could trace him knowing what he did. Could uncover his real designation, and thus Jazz's. They'd have to run again, take the twins and risk Jazz's reactions to them. His frame was nearly paralyzed as all his resources were directed to working out how to get the four of them out of this alive.

Radiance's optics spiraled wide when he realized his words had just engaged combat protocols. "Whoa, whoa, _hey!_ " he said quickly, immediately just as tense as Prowl was. "No, shh, that's all I can figure out, and I won't go looking for more, I swear to you. Not until you're ready to tell me, and even if that never happens. Please, please, shh, calm," he soothed, pushing honesty and affection into his field, touching their helms together. "I _swear_ to you, Pantera, I want to help you." 

"Delete it." Prowl managed to say, his vents wide and fans whirling as he struggled against protocols carefully crafted to preserve his Lord's existence while on the run from an oligarch and minor noble House. Another part of him flared warnings that his emotions were dangerous if they allowed such an action, but Prowl wanted Radiance, wanted a triad so badly. The mech had earned his trust, earned Jazz's trust. For the first time in his long existence Prowl fought his coding solely for himself and his desires. "Delete that knowledge. Before we triad, we intend to show you everything."

Radiance's vents stalled out before he shook himself and scrambled to sort through the conversation, separating out what he knew had to go and what he _needed_ to keep. He could teek, and feel through their frames, that Prowl was already calming just at the promise given through their fields. In mere nanokliks Radiance pressed fingers to Prowl's dataport, his own cable already in hand, almost frantic in his need to remember what Prowl needed from him. "Please, I can't delete everything, I have to remember some of it, just let me know if this is all right, and you can change anything you want to."

Prowl's port spiraled open, the tension drained from him at the acceptance. Though it was the first time they'd hardlined, it went smoothly, Radiance intentionally lowering his firewalls more quickly than he normally would and Prowl a steady, calm but powerful presence on the other side. The moment he was able Prowl swept in, scanned the files and pronounced it good with a grateful brush of his field and mind. Even in this moment where things could have gone so horribly wrong, Prowl's natural curiosity showed. He didn't poke at what he wasn't given, but as he watched their short conversation unfold he was utterly fascinated by the way Radiance could take such tiny bits of information and extrapolate so far beyond them.

With a gentle kiss, Prowl withdrew from Radiance's processors and unhooked them so Radiance could go into the hard reboot required to properly set the edits.

Radiance's visor went dark, the frame sagged with the sound of systems forced into a sudden shutdown, and for almost a dozen nanokliks everything was still and absolutely silent before the clicks and whirrs of mechanics broke the moment. 

Joints locked, the visor switched on, and Radiance had a moment of startled, unpleasant disorientation before the markers he'd left for himself linked back in, helping create a welcome sense of continuity. He lifted his head and looked down at Prowl. "I'm..." he said, then frowned and cocked his head. He'd learned something, something too close to the truth, or maybe even the truth itself, and chosen to delete it. "I distressed you," he murmured, and touched their helms together. "I'm sorry. I know I didn't mean to."

"I know as well," Prowl kissed him gently. "I said too much, and you did what you do best and worked out _far_ too much from a small slip. It was nothing we do not intend to tell you before we triad, but not yet." He let out a soft x-vent. "It's too dangerous now."

Radiance nodded and settled back down with his arms wrapped tightly around his lover, carefully reviewing the pieces he'd kept, not in an attempt to discover what he'd deleted, but to realize why those had been left. 

Strongest of all the segments that remained were his own emotions, deep concern for Prowl, a clawing need to support him and help him. As he carefully filtered through that in the background, something in Prowl's last words suddenly caught up to him. "You...think there is a chance we will triad," he said, and tried not to feel too embarrassingly giddy about that.

Prowl slid his arms around Radiance in an easy embrace. "I want to, Saxo likes you well enough to let you in, you seem to want to," he smiled gently and relaxed, content in the embrace and this gift of not having to be the strong one for a little while. "It's just too early. I really do need the time to be utterly sure Saxo's settled and isn't just humoring me by agreeing to see you. After all I've done to be with him, I won't rush this and risk pushing him away or make him feel like he's not enough." Prowl paused. "He's not Praxian, though I'm fairly sure you already knew that. The cosmetic work was to make moving here easier."

"I did know. I'm just thrilled you don't think I'll botch the courting," Radiance admitted with a soft laugh. "My last one did not end successfully."

"I should be sorry to hear that, but since it means you're single, I find it difficult to be." Prowl snuggled his Praxian-shaped pillow. "I'm not going to hold your talent at connecting things against you. Not after what you just did for me."

Radiance nuzzled him. "Since I suspect you might not still be here if I hadn't..." He pressed a soft, easy kiss against Prowl's mouth. "I'm not giving you up so easily. Not when you need me, not when I can help you." Another kiss, tender, soothing. "I know you haven't grieved properly, I know you're not even sure how. I want you to try."

Prowl returned the kisses, then nuzzled against Radiance's neck as he processed and then reprocessed the request, the risks, the consequences and potential benefits. The old losses didn't bother him. They were triggered so rarely. But if he could no longer be off balance after visiting the twins.... "How do I try to grieve?"

"You already are, dear one," Radiance murmured. "In your spark. It's deep, but there's a wound there. Something you need to feel for more than three orns. Let's start simple," he said, arms tight around his lover. "Remember the first time you saw them and held them."

Prowl hummed, not entirely sure of the point of it, but willing to go along. He opened the file that was the twins' separation. It wasn't any higher resolution than a normal memory, but it contained everything he saw and felt in those terrifying, exciting, messy and stressful joors in the small hotel room in Iacon. The hardline, guiding Jazz through the motions that were familiar to him but not the first time carrier or the two very excitable sparklings that wanted _out_. It scrolled by, the choices he made, guiding all three of them, forcing Sunstreaker to still while Sideswipe emerged. The moment when they accepted their fuel and Prowl knew that Jazz would be all right.

As much as he loved the twins, it was nothing compared to the love he felt for his mate and his processors willing remained on that tangent. It was so much more real to him than the small lives he'd help bring into the world.

Radiance waited quietly, watching Prowl's expression, then lifted his hand and tapped against his helm. "Stop thinking about Saxo," he said. "I know how you teek when you're doing that. Just Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, the first time they recharged against you, playing with them, watching them grow armor...watching them almost be killed by their creator." 

Prowl huffed but refocused. They were good memories, warm memories, but only one was at any higher resolution than orn to orn existence.

The evening he realized that Sunstreaker had inherited much of his processor structure and power. It brought a soft purr to his engine and smile to his face. Every other moment like that was similarly highlighted, whether it was in higher resolution or not, and he felt _pride_ in traveling down that line of memories. He really was Sunstreaker's creator, and he had no doubt of it.

Those memories ended, and he reluctantly reviewed that moment of pure terror when his fledgling creator protocols, never meant to be possessive but learning to, were faced with his mate advanced on his creations. By rights, by everything in the culture that had created him, Prowl should have stood back and quietly cleaned up the mess. It was Lord Jazz's _right_ to destroy the half-breeds.

Yet Prowl didn't even think. There was no hesitation. He launched himself at his mate, his _Lord_ , and slammed him into the far wall. He fought the furious mech to a standstill, hacked him, hurt him.

A sound of uncomprehending fear-grief-disbelief in his actions was absorbed by Radiance's neck cables while Prowl's plating rattled against him. Combat grade claws, installed by Mucit but now worn publicly as an Enforcer, scraped against armor designed to take abuse, and Radiance didn't even flinch.

"You love them," Radiance murmured. "You should have had a life with them, caring for them, watching them become who they will be. They should have known love, never fear, never hate. Tell me, did you have any say in their youngling upgrades?"

"No," Prowl trembled, his voice unsteady and his field still reeking of those terrifying movements as he worked to pack it all away again. "Didn't even know if they had them until I contacted Amberwave for this visit."

"No, don't push that fear away," Radiance said. "You need to feel that. If you didn't even know they had their upgrades, what else don't you know? What else are you missing? What else could happen to them, with you so far away?"

"Anything," Prowl admitted, fighting his basic reflex to package disruptive reactions away. "Anything could happen. _Anything_."

"And you will have to live with that," Radiance kept their helms together. "Accept that fact, don't ignore it. Losing a creation, having them _torn_ from you, sending them away of your own free will...that should _hurt_. It _does_ hurt, I can see it in every line of your frame when you say goodbye to them, even for just one night."

Prowl was still, pitting that statement against experience, coding and training. He wanted to say that it shouldn't hurt _him_. That normal to Radiance didn't mean it was normal for a seneschal. He didn't dare, though, because that would be giving Radiance too much and begin the ugly process of memory editing again.

"Pantera..." Radiance murmured, frowning at the lack of everything he'd been feeling in Prowl's field not even a groon ago. He sighed and pressed against him. "Guess this isn't the kind of thing you can force yourself to do, or you're too good at ignoring it. I'm worried about you. I'm staying the night when we get back to Praxus, even if Saxo isn't there." 

"I've ignored it my entire existence," Prowl sighed, his field wrapping around Radiance with thanks and reassurance. "Grieving for a few orns and moving on is normal to me. It's simply how I've always done it. I know you mean well. It's not going to be so simple to implement. It might help Saxo a lot though. His emotional protocols are far more normal."

"Saxo already has someone to support him when he needs it," Radiance said with a fond smile. He trace Prowl's helm, slow and thoughtful. "I think... you've been through as much as he has, haven't you. I picked it up on him right away, but you..." He hummed. "I mean it when I say I want to be here for you."

"Thank you," Prowl leaned into the touch, his optics slowly powering down and his field warm, even a bit giddy. "Haven't had anyone to lean on since my carrier deactivated himself."

Radiance's field flickered in startled surprise at how easily Prowl could remember something like that. "Deactivated himself," he said softly. "I...think I shouldn't ask. I don't want to draw anything you don't want me to." He sighed. "Feels too good to hold you."

"It's nothing special," Prowl murmured, already half in recharge and very happy to be held rather than be the one holding. Nothing in his field or frame betrayed that he was speaking of one of the most painful events in his memory. "His carrier went insane while he watched. When he realized he was too, he drove a vibro blade through his spark rather than deteriorate to the point of uselessness. Same choice I'll make if it starts to happen. I have to be useful. Need to be functional."

Radiance nuzzled him, stroking and petting. "Saxo and I will make sure of that," he promised. "We'll make sure you're around for a long time."

"I want to be," Prowl whispered before slipping into a peaceful recharge.

* * *

Radiance began to boot with the distinct pleasure of a warm, affectionate frame against his back and light hands questioning if he was interested in more direct pleasure. He hummed and pressed back with his hips, covering the wandering fingers with his own, enjoying the last of a slow boot with another field twined with his own. He'd gotten so used to recharging alone, it was still a pleasant surprise to rouse to this. 

"You started up in a good mood," he said, feeling the contented rumbling of the engines behind him. 

"Reflex," Prowl chuckled, low and soft, while leaving no doubt he could have ignored it if he wished to. "You know Saxo's appetite for pleasure." He kissed the back of Radiance's neck.

"Oh, that I do," Radiance said, grinning. He reached back, seeking out Prowl's waist and hip for light, teasing touches. "Though I was rather hoping I was the inspiration." 

"You are for not ignoring it," Prowl purred, his field teasing and playful along with his hands as he pressed into the touch. "Tell me what turns you on. What thought of me do you hold when you jack off?"

Radiance shivered and gasped softly, used to hearing Prowl's more erotic questions directed at Jazz, not him, and it made his engines run just a little hotter. "Your posture," he murmured, pointless to deny the many, many nights spent alone spilling into his own fingers with thoughts of Prowl and Jazz in his processors. "Watching your carriage go from that steady, commanding presence you have, to being completely sprawled out and strutless in ecstasy." 

Prowl's engines revved and his fingers slipped into Radiance's hip joint, teasing with feather-light touches as his field spoke of eagerness. "Am I over you or under you, lover? Buried deep inside you, or with my legs spread and your fluids seeping out of me?"

Radiance grinned. "It depends on if I'm jacking off or riding a toy," he said, laughing softly. "But you said jacking off, so..." He purred deeply, pushing his aft against Prowl's pelvis. "Spread out, filled with my spike."

"You do know how much I enjoy that," Prowl rumbled with a nuzzle, his valve cover sliding open as his fingers found and traced Radiance's spike cover. "How much I get off on my lover's enjoyment. How I enjoy playing out a fantasy or two before we're spent. You'd like to play out a fantasy with me?"

"Watching you become undone with as little touch as possible, sweet one," Radiance purred, enjoying the faint scent of lubricant as his cover drew away beneath the light touch, letting the tip of his spike slip out. He lifted himself up, turning so he was facing Prowl, and moved halfway over him, forcing him more onto his back. "It's slow," he grinned. "Torturous." 

"It will end in a hard reboot if done right," Prowl shivered in anticipation as he smoothly surrendered full control to the other mech. "Even if we have to keep this round a bit short." His slid his hands up Radiance's sides to caress his bumper and he willingly spread his legs, offering his valve and spike housing along with the rest of his frame. "I am yours to command."

Radiance hummed. "We'll have to work up to the kind of time I'm going to take with you some orn, anyway..." He shifted and settled himself between Prowl's open thighs, spike nudging up against plating, not even half extended. He leaned forward and placed his hands on Prowl's chest, fingers splayed out, and clicked on a light magnetic tug. "If you're very good, if you _relax_ like I want you to..." He moved his hands down, exploring the familiar chassis. " _Maybe_ I will let you overload twice before we need to leave." He looked up, met Prowl's optics. "But only if you can relax."

Prowl groaned and shivered in pleasure, his armor relaxing as he submitted completely, willingly, to his lover. "I look forward to it," he gasped out, optics dimming as his field unfurled with soft, pleasured delight at the promise. "It's been so long since a lover took their time with me."

Radiance smiled and hummed. "I've seen Saxo take his time with you. Not as much as he will in another few centuries when he's older, and after we've taught him." His hands came to settle on Prowl's waist, stroking lightly, teasing with his fingers. "Not as much as another lover has?"

"My first mate," Prowl moaned, his frame open and compliant under Radiance's touch. "He could draw this out for almost two orns by the end. He taught me patience."

"Two orns," Radiance purred deeply, moving down along Prowl's thighs, then traced down around his valve, not touching. "That's quite an accomplishment, we'll have to work towards that together." He quirked his wrists, tilting his palms inward, using the magnets to pull at the platelets without touching them. 

Prowl's hips rolled into the almost-touch with a gasp as his helm fell back. "Yes! Yes, I want that. Want to push my limits again. I've missed his attentions."

Radiance pushed and pulled his hands, slowly rotating them, getting close enough to _almost_ touch but never close enough, shifting the platelets between the two tugging fields as Prowl gasped and shifted into the touch and out to heighten the pleasure. "Is this Sunstreaker's sire, or further back?" he asked, hoping to keep his lover's processors occupied and distracted while playing with him.

"Much, much further back," Prowl answered readily, his vents wide and fans humming. "I was only a century into my adult upgrades when I worked up the courage to flirt with him. It feels like lifetimes ago."

"First love," Radiance said, smiling, enjoying the view of the glistening, twitching valve that he was being offered as Prowl tried to push his hips into contact. "Did he tie you down? Tease you?" His voice dipped, enjoying the topic that seemed unlinked to any trauma or the reason the pair were in hiding. "Make love to you?"

"No, insistently, always. He insisted I control myself," Prowl shivered, his temperature rising as much from memories as Radiance's treatments. "He taught me what to hope for, what a mate could be at its best."

Radiance shifted, moving his hands out of the way to slowly, carefully extend his spike, letting it brush up against the opening. "I bet he played with your doorwings," he said, leaning forward and bracing himself on one arm, while palming the other along the bottom edge, squeezing and letting the magnets pull at wires deeper than he could touch. "Was he beautiful?"

"Yes." Prowl moaned shamelessly as he pressed into the touches, his optics dim as he sank fully into the sensations. "I thought so. Not like Saxo is though, not like you. He was already an old mech when I was created. Mentor, lover, mate. He was everything to me while we were together."

It was honestly surprising after feeling so many different kinds of loss in Prowl's field that Radiance knew this wasn't a loss the mech was still grieving. There was nothing but warmth and fondness there. Memories of the good times rather than pain that they ended and the connection had been severed.

"Tell me about him?" Radiance asked, shifting his weight and switching hands, leaned far over Prowl and focused on what he was doing with his fingertips around the other Praxian's plating. "What he was like?"

Prowl smiled, warm and content in the memories. "No looking him up, okay?"

The memory of what happened when he knew too much too quickly had Radiance nodded in agreement without hesitation and Prowl kissed him gently.

"Susurrus was a chef, a good one. He often worked closely with my carrier to plan large events. That's how I first met him when I was a sparkling. I loved how creative he could be, taking such simple materials and _envisioning_ so many fantastic creations. That was before my upgrades, but I was still a smart mech. He had a gift that I'd never comprehend. I could only enjoy. It was his very first lesson, and he was so terribly patient with my first encounter with something that would always be beyond me."

"Creativity, where you are a being of logic," Radiance hummed, settling down on top of Prowl and pressing his mouth against his neck, kissing and sucking. "What was he teaching you to do?"

"Accept that I couldn't do everything," Prowl chuckled with a bemused look. "It was not an easy lesson for me, one I still occasionally forget. I've become very skilled at unconsciously avoiding what I'm not good at and never will be."

Radiance grinned. "That's better than the other way around. By the dozenth time I've caught the same mech gun-running, I'm always tempted to sit him down and advise a lifestyle change." He moved his way up to Prowl's jaw, nibbling just beneath. "And after your upgrades?" he purred. 

"Mmm, he knew I was interested ever since my mechling upgrades," Prowl chuckled with a self-deprecating tint to his field. "I didn't work up the courage to really do anything about it for almost three centuries. He was not encouraging me, and neither was anyone else. I learned much later that no one thought it was a good idea for me to become involved with a mech who only had a handful of centuries left, if that much. He taught me so much about loyalty, caring, self-control, pleasure, acceptance, business, the reality of the outside and letting go in the three and a half centuries we had. I wouldn't have avoided the connection even if I'd understood the pain that would come in the last few vorns as he shut down, unable to perform his function anymore. By then I'd witnessed several deactivations, but his ... Susurrus had been happy with his existence without clinging to it. He said that he was one of the blessed ones because he had been allowed to continue until his spark was ready to return to Primus. His end was calm, and as much as it hurt me, I knew he'd been ready to go."

Radiance had kept up his attentions while listening, but near the end, he stopped and nuzzled his face against Prowl's neck, smiling, before lifting his head and drawing his lover into a deep kiss. "I'm glad you had such a teacher," he murmured, then pushed up and flashed Prowl a grin. "Tell me what you enjoyed most about him in berth," he purred, running his hands down the front of Prowl's frame.

Prowl moaned and arched into the touch, taking a moment to organize his thoughts from so long ago. "He treated me as an equal. I was neither conquest nor a way to gain favors to him. My creator was of very high status within our social network. Few who knew who I was did not see me as either well above or well below them."

Radiance kept any conclusions or ideas drawn from that statement carefully to himself and cut the automatic reference searches that such a veiled statement caused in his processors, focusing instead on the beautiful, seductive curve of Prowl's hip and the chevron right above his spike cover, tracing both in turn. "He taught you pleasure, and control," he murmured. "Did he teach you to love power games, or did that come naturally? Or with another?"

"Our power games went no further than you are now," Prowl moaned softly, his optics flickering briefly as he sank into simply enjoying the pleasure for a moment. "Mostly it came naturally. A side affect of my position in society and a rigorously logical processor set."

"It formed you into a tantalizing lover," Radiance purred, then settled down and played with the doorwings for a while, enjoying the warm teek of Prowl's field, the way he was gasping, before his hands lowered back down the frame to pull at the platelets as he slipped his spike inside, slow and smooth. Once fully seated, he made himself comfortable, and held there, watching Prowl's face. "I'm glad I get to reap the benefits of his tutelage," he said, caressing his lover's hips.

"So am I," Prowl struggled to remain still, panting and optics bright as his gaze shifted between where their frames joined to Radiance's visored face. "Out of practice at this. Forgot how good it feels." He reached up to caress a black cheek plate before ghosting a finger over where visor met the metal. "May I see your optics?"

Radiance smiled and cocked his head before switching his primary visual feed over from his visor before lifting it with a thought, revealing same-colored optics. "One of these vorns, I'll succeed in convincing either you or Saxo to get a visor," he said, his hands ghosting over Prowl's pelvis, completely content to stay where he was, no movement in his own hips.

"Probably Saxo," Prowl chuckled, drawing his lover down for a kiss as his frame relaxed, the only effort was his valve lining rubbing along the spike inside it to keep their charge steady. "I like to let others see my face."

"You do have a lovely face, and beautiful optics," Radiance agreed, pulled Prowl's aft into his lap as he settled over him. "What do you think of mine?" he purred deeply, meeting Prowl's optics with his own. 

Prowl smiled and brushed Radiance's cheek with his thumb. "Your optics are a noble's," he purred, a statement that made no effort to hide that Prowl found that a turn-on as he drew the black face plates down for another kiss.

Radiance couldn't stop his grin against Prowl's mouth. "Lucky me," he hummed, and then pushed himself back up, moving into a sit, with a complete view of Prowl's body spread out before him, focusing on his hips. "Try to stay still," he instructed, and held his hands over Prowl's pelvis, then clicked the magnets back on, onlined another custom set in his spike, and rubbed slowly, catching the sensors and lining of Prowl's valve walls between the fields. His gaze stayed on Prowl's face, watching his optics go bright in shock and the intense concentration it took Prowl to moan and nothing more.

"Primus, Radiance!" Prowl gasped as a shudder rippled along his frame. "How?"

Radiance chuckled. "Trickery, beautiful one," he answered, moving his hand in slow circles, the rest of his frame still. "No...moving..." he murmured as Prowl twitched, concentrating on playing the magnets off each other and the metals in between them.

Prowl's vents went wide open as he moaned almost soundlessly, his optics flickering as he attempted to process the pleasure that had almost no corresponding charge. It was new, and part of him that had been abandoned with his adult upgrades reveled in it. This was pleasure. He didn't need to _think_ about it. He didn't even need to understand it since the demand on him was stillness, not reciprocation. It was a bliss he'd long ago given up on enjoying again.

Radiance smiled and enjoyed his view and the small twitches that he could see going through the frame despite Prowl's best effort. "I think, we will take this very, very slow, until you can't stand it. Don't worry if you can't make it very long, I'll understand," he purred.

Pride, stubbornness and a level of self-knowledge Prowl had spent a long lifetime developing all kicked in at once and he growled in response to the challenge. Optics flashing he grinned up at his lover with a slightly insane grin. "You have no idea what you've just begun."

"Mhmm," Radiance hummed, almost indulgently, although he knew perfectly well the will he was going up against here. "We'll just see. We have to leave in half a joor if we want to be on time."

Prowl rippled his valve around his lover, silently asking if he was allowed to play without moving too. "Which might mean we'll have to stop and pick up when the day is over."

"And wouldn't that be unfortunate," Radiance grinned, making no indication that Prowl needed to stop. He brought his other hand forward and rubbed them next to each other, teasing and slow. "I'm not sure I want to spend the day like that, I'll just have to try my hardest." 

He moved quietly for a while, enjoying Prowl's gasps and the way he could feel the hips wanting to lift off the berth, admiring the self restraint it was taking his lover to keep still. "Imagine tying Saxo up, doing this to him while you talk to him, giving him no say in the matter."

"He'd either never last, or glitch and not move until I hardlined that it was okay," Prowl moaned, only mildly disturbed by the facts. It wasn't as if Radiance knew what they'd been through, and it was a reasonable idea to normal mecha. "Hopefully the first."

"We'll have to try and see," Radiance shivered. "I bet he'd enjoy it. Probably last longer if you don't talk to him, though." He moved one hand up to caress over Prowl's spike cover, tracing magnetized fingers around the edges. It snapped open with a deep moan from Prowl as his spike extended into the field in rush.

"Know he would," Prowl gasped, flexing his valve in a ripple along Radiance's spike, rubbing it in tiny motions. When Radiance moved to trace his chevron Prowl keened and bucked, startled as much as blissed out by the sudden effect of strong electromagnets so close to his processors.

Radiance's engines revved at the sight of movement, thrilled to have been able to cause it, then curled his fingers around the extended spike without touching and started to stroke as he rubbed over Prowl's valve, his own spike starting to ache with the effort of not moving. "Damn, mech," he gasped.

"Can't wait until we have orns to play this out properly," Prowl's moan shivered, his optics bright as it finally sank in that as worked up as he felt, his charge was barely above normal. He focused more effort on working every part of his valve mechanics to stimulate the spike inside him while the magnetic field moving along his spike drew an undulating, moaning keen from his vocalizer. "Looking forward to my turn to tease you," he panted.

"As payback?" Radiance asked, voice starting to strain with the same frustrating buildup of sensation with no accompanying charge in his system. "Think I'd enjoy that. Valve's tight, lover, something you want?" he purred teasingly.

"To see how much I remember of how to take my time," Prowl moaned, his optics flickering. "Want you to move, to flood me with your pleasures."

Radiance gave a soft, moaning gasp, and let one finger ghost up and down Prowl's spike as he twitched his hips, just slightly. "Relaxed yet?" he asked, heat surging through him at the sight of Prowl's sprawled frame, the sound of his pants, the sultry, _hungry_ look on those normally stern faceplates.

"Very," Prowl relaxed every cable and tensor in his fame, allowing him to go limp under his lover. "It feels good."

"Good," Radiance purred. "That's all I ask." Slowly, very, very slowly, he started to rock his hips, no more than a barely perceptible twitch at first, as light as he could stand it, despite the straining need evidenced by his fans. 

It seemed to take an _eternity_ before he allowed himself to pull any real visible length of his spike out to watch disappearing again, and by then he was shaking almost as badly as Prowl was. His fingers relaxed around his lover's spike, stroking in time with the gradual, torturous pace he was trying to hold. Charge started to flicker and grow, Radiance groaned, and in one, sudden thrust, couldn't hold that speed and his frame bucked forward as he drove into his lover.

It was the signal a nearly delirious Prowl was waiting for. He reached up to grab Radiance's shoulders as his hips rotated and knees came up, curling his legs along his lover's. "Yes," Prowl hissed, shivering with the waves of pleasure rolling through him. He pulled Radiance down for a heated kiss and bucked his hips up, demanding, while his valve tightened and rippled, trying to pull the spike in deeper.

Radiance only too happily complied, panting against Prowl's mouth, cradling his lover's helm, using all of his strength to hold out as long as he could. "Lover, lover," he moaned. "Let go, give in, let me hold you while you rock."

With a moan Prowl stopped resisting, shifted fractionally for the next thrust and shuddered with the rush of pleasure that crackled through him. With one more tiny shift Radiance's next thrust exploded sensation through him and Prowl's frame tightened. He keened and his helm fell back, his optics flickering and features tight with bliss that overrode even his ability to think, and he didn't hear Radiance's shout above him, or feel the next hard drive of his lover's spike, but the transfluid that flooded him and the releasing charge that jumped from frame to frame pushed a second, whiting-out overload.

When he finished booting, Prowl was first aware of the frame above his, the arm curled around his head, the fingers running over his helm. "That was very good," Radiance murmured, pleasure and pride clear in his field and in the soft kiss he pressed against Prowl's mouth.

Prowl tried to return it, uncoordinated though he was, and hummed something to the affirmative. He could be quite content to remain just like this for quite a while if he didn't have an obligation that required cleaning up and moving, relaxed and contented under the stroking magnetized hands that were roaming over his frame, rubbing and soothing.

All too soon, Radiance nuzzled him. "We need to leave soon. And we should probably wash first if you don't want to cause a scandal."

"True, even if they're all sure we're already doing this," Prowl murmured, claiming a last lingering kiss before he was ready to move. Cleaning up went fast with two mecha skilled at removing evidence of a quick frag and before long they were on their way to pick up the younglings, excited for the day and to spend that time with each other. 


	29. Searching

Radiance made his way easily through the mess that was the inside of the private home his team had just raided, observing more than anything as mecha he'd trained himself and trusted with his life finished trussing their prisoners up for transport. "Excellent," he praised his second-in-command, Charade, and got a nod in response from the serious, red-visored mech. "This is definitely a main stash, I think you could take Iacon hostage with the firepower in here."

Charade stood up, dusted his hands off, and looked around. "If you were creative with it," he rumbled. "Which you would be."

Radiance chuckled and started to answer, when a vid screen in the next room over set to a live newsfeed caught his optic. He could see weaponsfire and smoke on the screen and he frowned, pushing past Charade to get closer. 

Charade followed. "That's been running since we got here, 's in Polyhex, though. Riots."

Radiance's head snapped around. "Polyhex?"

Charade nodded. "Yeah, was listening while we were waiting, you were still out back. Couple noble houses've been razed, most mecha in 'em killed. Guttersmecha desperate for energon, looks like."

Radiance's optics widened behind his visor when he realized why the picture on the screen had caught his attention, finally seeing what was so familiar through the smoke and haze. The Calidar estate. "Take over," he snapped to his second, then turned and ran outside, rolling onto the street and transforming, taking off as soon as wheels hit pavement. :: _Pantera!_ ::

::Get Whiplash to get Saxo in the conversation. I don't care how.:: Prowl's voice was tight, commanding in a way Radiance had only heard the briefest hints of before. It was a voice that not only could command a small army, but probably had. It was also a voice that said that the mech was up to his optics in other conversations at the moment, and quite possibly a physical altercation.

Radiance tried to ping Jazz and got the signal immediately rejected, meaning he was too far underground in ISO's shielded area, something that Prowl had apparently already tried. His engines growled. "Why does it have to be Whiplash?" he muttered to himself. ::Hey!:: he pinged the matte black Ops mech. It took the routing through several layers and increasing levels of scrutiny but within half a klik Whiplash finally responded.

::Which explosion got you all bent out of shape?:: the Ops commander growled, not hiding that he was having a bad morning too.

::The one that Saxo needs to hear about,:: Radiance said, scowling, unable to find it in himself to really care how rough of an orn Whiplash was having. ::I need him in comm range, right now.::

::Polyhex then,:: Whiplash muttered. ::Give me a klik. I have to pull him out of a room.::

The line went dead, then Jazz was on it. Not actually in comm range, but his signal run through the system that connected the Ops realm to the outside.

::Do you know what's going on?:: was the first thing Radiance asked, holding off on linking Prowl in, wanting to keep the Enforcer's processors as uncluttered as possible. 

::Whiplash pulled me and is not happy about it, that's all I know,:: Jazz said. 

::It'll be on any newsfeed you want to access. Energon riots in Polyhex, and...:: Radiance hesitated for a moment, not sure how Jazz would react to hearing his creation's designation. ::The estate that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were at has been raided, it looks destroyed.::

Silence. 

::Saxo?::

::Where is Pantera?:: Jazz's voice was flat. 

::Linking him in,:: Radiance said, and sent the request for conference through to Prowl.

Prowl was on the line almost immediately, the hum of many background conversations to this one audible on the line. ::Saxo. I'll be headed to Polyhex as soon as I finish arrangements. Within the joor.::

::I'm coming with you,:: Radiance and Jazz said in unison. 

::I'll get through Whiplash, just tell me where to meet you,:: Jazz added.

::The apartment,:: Prowl said, his tone mildly surprised but not about to argue with his mate on an open conference call with half the precinct brass.

::You are not going, Radiance,:: Motor's rumble stopped the SWAT commander's statement. ::Pantera still has some kin-rights to his creations. You do not yet.::

::Mortar!:: Radiance protested, while Jazz vanished from the line to get through his own commander. ::I have to! You don't need me here, Charade--::

::Is a perfectly capable officer. He's also not _you_ and I need _you_ here,:: Mortar insisted. ::You know full well the workload going on right now. We're lucky we aren't in the same situation as Polyhex. I wouldn't let Pantera go if I had any options in the matter.::

::Radiance, you are needed here,:: Prowl's voice was calm. ::Duty comes first.::

Radiance throttled back on the angry growl that was trying to force out of his engines. ::Request permission to temporarily go off-duty until Pantera and his mate have left for Polyhex,:: he said stiffly. 

::Permission granted,:: Mortar said, as kind as possible, not that Radiance cared. ::But Radiance--::

::What?:: Radiance snapped, only barely remembering that he loved his job and wanted to keep it.

::You're scheduled for a few orns off as soon as everything calms down with all the overtime you've put in. I suggest directing your focus on making it calm down as quickly as possible.::

::Will do, sir,:: Radiance said, hitting his breaks, spinning, and setting off towards Prowl and Jazz's apartment. 

::Got out,:: Jazz's voice reappeared on the line, this time through his own comm line. ::I'll be home in twenty kliks, Pantera.::

::I'll be longer,:: Prowl warned him. ::Start packing. Extra rations, high grade, small and large credit sticks, weapons. Radiance will be there to see us off but can't join us until Praxus calms.::

::Actually I'll be there before you,:: Radiance said. ::I'll wait outside.:: 

::I'll be there soon. Pantera, hurry,:: Jazz said.

::I'll do my best.:: Prowl promised, the number of comm lines he was managing already going down. ::Longsight's youngest's mate is a shuttle and flying us to Polyhex.::

There was a pause as Jazz translated that to what he needed to know. ::Understood,:: he agreed before closing the line to allow his mate to deal with whatever he needed to. By the time he arrived at the lift to his apartment Radiance was already there and trying not to fidget.

"Hey," Jazz greeted, tense, not pausing on his way in or checking to make sure that Radiance was following him but for the warm, relieved flare of his field against his lover's. His chassis still had the remnants of hastily-wiped energon covering it, and had worked into the joints of his fingers. 

Radiance waited until the lift had closed and began to move. "What can I do to help?"

"Um," Jazz said, holding hand to forehelm, shuttering his optics for a moment before opening them again and taking a closer look at his hand, frowning at it. "We've got a stash of weapons behind the berth, that panel lifts away, that aren't entirely legal. Can you get them loaded and not arrest us? I need to jump under some solvent."

"Sure thing," Radiance patted his shoulder gently, his field rich with understanding and acceptance. "Though I'm fairly sure you're allowed anything you want."

Jazz gave a half-grin. "Yeah. But Pantera isn't, and I definitely can't let anyone else have access to them." The door opened and they stepped out, Jazz shifting uncomfortably in his plating as he moved. "And--" he said, shaking his head again, looking almost overcharged with the movement and the frown that accompanied it. "Got pulled from a room, I'm going to be useless if I don't get this charge out."

"Before or after you clean up?" Radiance asked, trusting that Jazz wouldn't ask at a time like this, even obliquely, if it wasn't okay with Prowl.

"Before," Jazz said firmly, as they stepped onto the smaller lift that took them up to the second level. "Fragging _itches_."

Radiance nodded and pressed against Jazz's plating as he claimed a kiss. "Hardline is what I can do the fastest."

Jazz nodded and returned the kiss almost automatically as his interfacing dataport spiraled open, then he took Radiance's hand in his own and guided it down between them and let his spike extend against it, aching for contact, for _finish_. "Valve or hand, I don't care, this'll make it quicker."

"Anything you need," Radiance promised. He closed his hand around the unique ruffled length and plugged into the offered port. He shifted to brace against Jazz's back to guide him into the washrack, a luxury that he was still wrapping his processors around them affording so easily, while he stroked and pulsed. When they were safely in the easily cleaned space, he turned on the magnets in his palm and put his full effort into overloading his lover as hard and fast as he could. Technique and enjoyment were ignored. It was all about giving Jazz what he needed as quickly as possible.

Jazz shuddered, helm pressed to Radiance's shoulder as his fingers dug in and held on, then groaned, hips jerking into the touch and processor going fuzzy with the charge pulses that Radiance was pushing through. "Radiance," he gasped, and in less than a klik, his frame seized and pressed against the other. "Frag-- _frag!_ " Jazz shouted, charge racing through him and crackling out into the air, jumping across frames as he shot into dark, coaxing fingers. 

Short, intense, and processor-clearing. Jazz slumped for a moment, panting heavily, then shivered and shook himself once more, lifting his head. "Thank you. That helped a lot." 

Radiance let go and shifted to catch another kiss while he worked to dissipate the mild charge that had built up in his systems. "Good. You'll need your processors about you." With that he let go and stepped away so Jazz could clean up.

Jazz nodded, grim, as plating shifted and resettled back around him. "Haven't been able to get ahold of anyone in Polyhex who knows details--I doubt there are any. No one's had time to sort things through." He triggered the solvent sprays and stepped into them, holding his arms out. "Join you once I'm done." 

Radiance nodded and went to start prepping their weapons cache and not think about the fact that he wasn't going with them as he climbed onto the berth and looked at the metal sheeting of the walls right above the headboard. He ran his fingers around the seam, felt enough of a give to indicate which plate wasn't attached to the rest, and switched the magnets on in one hand and drew back, lifting it away. 

Behind was a small storage area, something not uncommon as a feature in security-enhanced apartments like these ones. Inside the unlit space were two rows of weapons all laid out in a perfect order that had to be Prowl's doing. The first were blasters, six in all, the second row contained three heavy riffles. Along each side were enough compatible charges to keep them all firing for a very long time. None of them were armed, a storage safety standard that Radiance was grateful they complied with. Spaced between the ranged weapons were close quarters ones, vibro and energon blades, and those did look fully charged.

It was impressive, even by the SWAT officer's standards. With a low hum he pulled the entire ranged stash out onto the berth, snatched a handful of charges, and started working on getting them loaded. 

Every single one was a weapon banned on the open market, and Radiance had seized plenty of these models in his time. He had to give his lovers credit for their choices, and admitted to himself that these were probably the same he would choose as well, if he was ever going to keep black market finds for himself. Distantly, he heard the sound of the washracks powering down, a brief drying cycle, and then Jazz reappeared, walking past him and going downstairs. 

Five kliks, and then Jazz reappeared, looking quickly over the weapons and then smiling at Radiance. "Figured you'd know about these models."

"I have to," he grinned at Jazz. "I have to know what's legal, and how to secure what isn't." He paused as he finished the last of the blasters and reached for a riffle. "How much experience do you and Pantera have in handling these in a firefight?" He extended his field, brushing against Jazz with solid reassurance that he only wanted to know for their safety.

"More than I'd like and enough to handle ourselves," Prowl gave a non-answer as he walked in right for Jazz to claim a kiss. "You don't have to come, love," he murmured quietly enough that only Jazz heard him.

"I know, and I am," Jazz said, voice equally low and tone that would take no argument. "You saw everything I left out for you? I split the credit sticks and energon between us."

Prowl nodded and kissed him lightly. "In my subspace." He turned to Radiance, nodded and began the process of checking and stashing the loaded and charged weapons in his frame while handing every other one to Jazz. Only a single blaster went in each subspace, and Jazz received more than half the blades but Prowl got the third riffle.

"With any luck, the rioting will have quieted down by the time you get there," Radiance said. "It still looks bad, but--" He watched one of the more deadly weapons get tucked away. "I don't want you to need those." 

"Neither do we," Jazz assured him. 

Radiance nodded, not at all happy about this situation. "Do you have a plan?" he asked, looking to Prowl.

"One or two, depending on how cooperative the locals are," he shivered his frame, settling every plate in place so it looked like he was no more armed than he should be: a single standard-issue blaster, a shock baton and his shoulder launchers, currently folded down. "However it plays out, I'm going to hack into the estate systems and see how many perpetrators I can identify while I look for where the younglings were when this all started." There was a fractional pause before his voice quieted. "I'm going to try and find Amberwave and T'kach as well."

"T'kach?" Radiance glanced at Prowl only to realize that Jazz had the same expression.

"I'll tell you about him later," Prowl groaned at his own mistake and gave Radiance an apologetic look. "Someone else not to look up, okay?"

"All right," Radiance nodded. "I might be stuck in Praxus, but I'm not out of comm range. I've got resources to put to bear on this."

Prowl gave him a painfully sad smile and leaned in to kiss him soundly. "Thank you, lover. We will remain in touch."

Jazz drew Radiance in for a kiss as soon as Prowl had moved away. "Thank you," he murmured, then straightened. "When are we meeting the shuttle?"

"Any klik now," Prowl glanced around, then at Radiance. "You know you can stay here, if you want. If things get bad there are other weapon stashes."

Radiance inclined his head. "Thank you. Though I'm doing everything I can to make sure things _don't_ get bad here." He rose to his pedes and put a hand on each of their shoulders, then slid to the backs of their necks. "Promise me you'll be careful." 

"We will be," Jazz said, leaning in to touch their helms together, just as the faint sound of an approaching shuttle became audible.

"We will return to you if it is at all possible," Prowl promised as well, relaxing in the intimacy that was far too early for their relationship but that he needed and wanted very badly. "Keep yourself and your team safe, Radiance. I don't want to come home to have lost you."

Radiance pulled Prowl in to kiss him deeply, then turned to Jazz for the same. "Sounds like the shuttle is here. Go on before I forget why I'm not going with it." 

"We'll keep in contact," Jazz promised, before turning and leaving with his mate, Radiance almost having to lock his joints to keep himself from following. Once he heard the lift closing, he headed over to the windows to look down at the street, seeing the waiting shuttle, and not moving until his lovers had climbed in and were safely in the air. He sighed, took a moment to gather himself, stopped watching the newsfeed from Polyhex, and commed his Second to find out where his team was.

* * *

By the time they arrived in Polyhex, the noble quarters that had experienced the heaviest rioting and looting had been abandoned by everyone but the scant forces of Enforcers that could be spared for searches and the hazard teams that were still working on the last of the chemical fires that had been started. The shuttle was able to land within visual range of the estate, and Jazz's field teeked grim as he left the shuttle, Prowl right behind him. "Please tell me we have the wrong one and you actually meant that one over there," he said, pointing to a nearby estate that looked hardly touched. 

The one in front of them looked like it had been attacked. Certainly with grenades, likely with heavier artillery. The shuttle transformed behind them and gave a low, shocked whistle. 

"Thank you for the ride, Windcrest," Prowl told the shuttle, though his full focus was in front of him. He barely heard the response or Jazz's assurance that they would comm if they needed anything. With only the faintest quiver of his doorwings he transformed and drove onto the estate, pinging the local Enforcer data net to find out who the officer in charge was, only to find there was none officially listed, the previous officer having been pulled six joors prior and none having logged back in to replace him.

As soon as they were spotted, though, an Enforcer with officer markings turned around and approached them, giving the universal signal for them to transform back into root mode immediately. 

"State your business," the officer, whose ID ping came back as Fielder, commanded. "This area is restricted."

"Our creations were here when the attack happened," Prowl said simply. "We are here to help look for them and provide any resources we can towards recovering them."

Fielder looked Prowl up and down, taking note of his official markings as a lowly patrol officer out of Praxus, largely ignored Jazz with his civilian appearance, then shook his head. "Sorry, you're not in your jurisdiction here, and it's restricted to even you. I can't let the family of every mecha who was inside just wander around." 

Prowl's doorwings twitched up, but before he could respond, Jazz stepped around him, giving the officer a huge grin. "Hi there," he said, waving, ignoring the unimpressed and dubious look the mech gave him. "Why don't you stop talking, take a nanoklik to ID me, get over the results as quickly as you can, and _move_ ," he said, stepping forward, doorwings flared out. "Because I do not have the time to stand around here while you gape and tempt me to arrest you for obstruction of an Imperial agent."

Behind him Prowl smirked, but restrained the snicker to his field where Jazz could teek it.

Fielder glared at him, but did the ID ping. Everybody in visual range knew when he got the results back by the way he nearly jumped away from Jazz, optics bright.

"Ur, right. Yes, Sir. What are the designations and frame stages of who you're looking for?" Fielder was socially backpedaling fast.

"Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, younglings," Jazz said, speaking the names of his creations out loud for the first time since they had been brought here. His doorwings lowered down from the imposing stance but he stayed tense, standing in front of his mate, irrationally wanting to shield him from what he was sure they were going to hear. 

But instead, the officer shook his head. "I'm sorry, no youngling frames have been recovered yet, and the few survivors have been adults."

"Do any positive IDs include Amberwave, Raela or T'kach?" Prowl asked, though Jazz noted that the set of his doorwings indicated he had mixed emotions on the answer.

Fielder took a moment to search what few results they had, and shook his head. "We have found none, deactivated or otherwise."

Prowl simply nodded, though Jazz could teek a knotting of energy that meant Prowl was desperate to _move_ because he knew where answers were. Yet it was Jazz who held the rank, so he deferred to his mate.

"Just make sure your team knows who we are and doesn't interfere," Jazz said, and brushed past the mech. 

"There are chemical hazards--" Fielder started to say, but Jazz turned and gave him a look. 

"I think I know how to identify chemical hazards," he said. "Anything in there beyond a Class III?" 

Fielder shook his head. "Nothing over Class I." 

"Then we'll be fine," Jazz said, and started to walk, before pausing and look at him. "Oh, and please send your command protocols to my mate, he will be taking charge." At Fielder's shocked expression, Jazz's features softened. "I'm sure there are others in this city who could use your help, and he is more than qualified for this." 

"Yes, Sir," Fielder said, and promptly sent the schematics, protocols, and other relevant data over.

"Thank you. I will ensure all relevant reports are forwarded to the precinct chief," Prowl inclined his helm to Fielder before taking off after Jazz, catching up with him in two steps and taking the lead with a purposeful stride that spoke of knowing exactly where to find what he wanted. His comm system lit up, introducing himself to the Enforcers on site, giving directions to the most likely locations that mecha would have taken refuge in and where to dig the command center out so they could hopefully find out what had happened in detail with court-quality information.

Pleasant surprise greeted the information, with quiet gratitude sent back to him over the lines, followed by an increase in determination of the mecha working to clear everything out. 

Jazz followed silently through the debris and halls that his mate knew and navigated easily, even as wrecked as they were. ::T'kach?:: he asked, encrypting the comm.

::My second creation. He was raised in Iacon and was being trained under Amberwave.:: Prowl included an image file from the single encounter he'd had with the mech, one that gave little indication they knew who the other was at the time. ::He would have taken up the secondary command position in the kitchen and directed resources from there while Amberwave did so from the primary command hub on the bottom floor.::

Jazz nodded as they picked their way through the wreckage of a collapsed section of ceiling. ::Perhaps the bottom floor was more insulated from damage,:: he said, though his field held little real hope of that. ::I did not realize you knew any of your other creations' designations.::

::It was an accident. Amberwave said one was here when I first brought the sparklings. I chose not to meet him then. Several vorns later I heard a mech speaking about Amberwave's apprentice, T'kach. It took very little from there to piece together his life.:: Prowl paused, his frame stilling as self-hate mixed with losing himself flickered through his field. ::I did a great deal of damage to my coding when I attempted to raise our creations. I was never intended to be a creator, only a carrier.::

::I thought you were a marvelous creator, and a perfect sire,:: Jazz said quietly, hands settling on his mate's hips from behind. ::Come on, they might be knocked offline somewhere, or hiding.::

::The prize is where Amberwave would have been,:: Prowl leaned into the touch briefly, his field skittering with thanks at the thought that he'd done well. ::Once I log in, I can see where they were before the network went down.::

They moved deeper into the estate, finding the path mostly clear for them, until they were very nearly at where the command center would be, and were faced with a giant section of energon-covered debris that the local Enforcers were already working at clearing away. Most of them stopped and offered brief salutes to the arriving pair before continuing at their work, while one stepped away entirely. 

"We're almost through," he said, absentmindedly licking at a drop that was running down his wrist. "It looks like there was an explosion in the energon lines right above this, the collapse crushed several of the mecha who were trying to get in. Lucky timing for a line backup."

"It's more likely an intentional act by the estate seneschal," Prowl scanned the debris field and went to work, Jazz moving alongside him. Quiet words directed those working to more effective use of their energy, but mostly Prowl simply focused on digging. It helped him focus his processors, his systems having become more action centric since escaping Vortex. While it didn't show on the outside, he had never stopped trying to remote access the estate, trying one system and subsystem after another and continuing to cycle through every comm channel he knew or could dig up from those who had lived here. 

"Think anyone is still back there?" the commander asked dubiously. 

"Likely not alive," Jazz said, voice quiet as he accepted a chunk of sheet metal to toss out of the way, leaning in close to his mate once he had, his field steady and calm. "Unless something has caused their comms to malfunction, they are either deactivated or escaped by another means." 

One of the Enforcers gave a triumphant cry, interrupting anything the commander might have said in response, and announced that they could see through to the other side from there. 

Prowl immediately tried Amberwatch's comm again, along with Raela's, without reply while they all worked to open a gap large enough to get through. Prowl's doorwings were vibrating with pent up need to search further in by the time there was enough of a gap for him to get through. "Azimuth, Casie, Fracture: widen the opening in case of injured survivors. Hook Up, Knocker, Race: check out the primary safety area," he pinged them the location and directions. On the schematic they had it looked like any other storage room. Prowl knew differently from running an estate. In some things the nobility were just too small a group to vary that much.

He stopped for long enough to make sure all six Enforcers were working on their assigned tasks before making his way up to the gap and ducking his way through, Jazz right behind him, and they found themselves in the last section of hall that ended with a door that had been blasted off and was hanging lopsidedly, sparking from where it was damaged.

Prowl started for it, but Jazz's hand wrapped around his arm, stopping him, before he stepped out in front and ducked carefully through the entry, his hand up and back as he looked around inside. After a few moments, his frame sagged just barely and he shook his head, but gestured for Prowl to follow and enter before moving completely in.

There were a scattering of frames on the floor, none that Jazz recognized, though he quietly grieved the loss of the very, very young sparkling that the smaller of adults had tried to shield with her frame. A youngling was among the grayed number as well, but it bore no resemblance to either twin to Jazz's optic. So while Prowl stopped to look the deactivated over, he went for the second doorway, one that led into the maze of servant tunnels, and muttered a curse to himself as he looked down the long, clear, very empty hall. "This one isn't on the public schematics," he said, shaking his head again. 

"Help me unplug and lay Amberwave on the floor," Prowl responded, his voice cool and flat as he worked to untangle and unplug a mech missing most of his chest from the central control station in the room. "I'll update the schematics when I log in."

Jazz turned and joined his mate, carefully wrapping his arm around the wrecked torso after folding one of the doorwings out of the way while Prowl worked at the cables leading into the console, some of which had melted at the ends. "It was probably a security feature, but they'll have to rebuild this entire place anyway," he said, trying to keep verbal conversation calm, unemotional, and not ask about the obvious Praxian build or the mech's apparent post, not until he could get Prowl alone. He already had enough clues to realize that this was the relative that Prowl had entrusted with their sparklings. What he didn't know was how close a relative it was, and how much Prowl cared about him.

Prowl finished with the connections, freeing the frame, and together they lifted it up and away and settled it on the floor. Jazz simply watched as his mate displayed a skill at hacking he had largely forgotten Prowl was so good at. Most of the plugs were useless, but Prowl found a couple undamaged ones that were normally hidden and used them to assess the system's overall condition.

Less than half a klik later Prowl had moved onto removing panels to hardwire himself in.

Jazz stood behind him, hands on his shoulders, letting the local Enforcers take care of the work of removing the grayed frames, his entire focus on his mate. "Anything?" he asked softly after a silent klik, growing tension driving him to speak and break that silence.

"Some can be identified, I have several designations," Prowl reported as he began downloading the relevant data to an evidence drive. "They are _very_ heavily armed for guttermecha desperate for energon."

Jazz frowned, pulled a cable, and reached around Prowl, tapping it against his chest. "Show me."

Prowl spiraled open a port immediately and queued up the images and evidence that indicated weapons heavier than what they carried, things far beyond the means of most working mecha, much less those from the gutters. ~I believe there were two separate groups involved. The heavily armed mecha were out to kill and destroy, but did little practical material looting and went for larger, expensive items and the highest quality high grade. Those than came behind them didn't hurt anyone, a few even helped those still functioning, but went right for the useful looting. Energon, supplements, repair supplies. The things we know are of highest value to those scraping by.~

Jazz skimmed over what Prowl was showing him, jumping from file to file, watching the progression of the takeover of the estate. ~They hid under the cover of the guttermecha,~ he said. ~Made sure they were the ones who followed and were caught by any Enforcers while they got out and disappeared into the energon riots. They might have even started the whole thing. Specifically targeted and took down one estate at a time--~ He double checked that guess with the reports being logged on the Enforcer net. ~Chose those without a significant private guard. Frag! They aren't just lost or hiding out there somewhere, if they're not here they were taken.~

~Yes.~ Prowl agreed with a grim storm of creator protocol rage brewing until the complete emotional lockdown of his processors. ~The question is now why _them_ , when more valuable youths were deactivated,~ he flashed to the newly separated one. ~They would not have been easy to take. Sunstreaker is still extremely aggressive.~

~They have high quality frames,~ Jazz said quietly, ignoring the unsettling churn in his tanks at the thought of his creation's violent nature. He glanced around at the sparkling. ~That one does too, by the looks of it, but might have been too young to sell for what they want. If they didn't take a sparkling, they're probably not feeding into an interfacing market, a newly separated sparkling will go for _mint_ on one of those.~

Prowl's frame buckled, nearly dropping him to his knees before he caught himself on the consol with locked arms. Shock, both at the information and almost casual delivery stalled his processors in a sea of white that soon turned to horror. Of course he'd known, in the most abstract of ways, that such things existed. It wasn't part of his reality, though, nothing he'd ever crossed paths with, even on a secondary or tertiary level. 

~What would they take younglings like ours for?~ Prowl finally managed to get across. It was better to know now, to be ready, than to be shocked by where this would take them when he needed his wits about him.

Jazz's hold around his mate tightened, regret that he'd had to eliminate such a possibility for them strong in his field. ~There are, unfortunately, many different possibilities. Slaves, illegal workers, small frames that can fit in hazardous places most adults can't, youngling pits, mining, being trained to fight...there are more, none of them good,~ he said sadly.

Prowl trembled in Jazz's embrace, accepting both comfort and information as the protocols he'd installed in their very first safehouse fought a battle against the intensity until Prowl put his intentional effort into backing them and his emotional protocols dropped to the background once more. ~We'll need to find as many of the first group, the gang mecha, as possible, and soon.~

~Send the best images you can find of them over to the Commissioner,~ Jazz instructed. ~I'll give him his orders once you have.~

Prowl nodded, gathered a packet of the best images, cross-referenced with the few designations he had, and sent it.

Jazz watched until the commissioner had acknowledged the receipt of it, then promptly sent a comm ping to the mech's private line, immediately getting it rejected. He tried again, more insistently, and the line opened to an annoyed growl that they both heard, Jazz keeping the conversation open to his mate through the hardline. 

::Who are you and how did you get this frequency?:: 

::My designation is Saxo and I got this frequency from a database which stores all city commissioners' private frequencies, which I have access to. My credentials,:: he databurst his ID information over, ::And if you wish you double check my rank and identity, an officer called Fielder has already done so.:: 

There was a pause, and then a slightly-cowed sounding, ::How can I help you, Saxo?::

Jazz nuzzled Prowl's helm. ::You just received a packet of images from the Praxian Enforcer, designation Pantera, of some of the mecha involved in this orn's violence. If arrested, they are Imperial prisoners, and are to be processed by me alone. You will make sure every Enforcer in this city has the same images, and every mecha taken prisoner for involvement with the riots will be shown the same images and questioned for information regarding them should they recognize any. Anything learned is to be sent directly to myself and Pantera. They are top priority above everything but the safety of the city and her citizens, understood?::

::Understood,:: the commissioner said promptly, and Jazz cut the line. 

~That will make the net very tight around them, with any luck they won't slip out,~ he sighed, holding Prowl tightly.

~Agreed,~ Prowl leaned into the contact, openly grateful by his mate's use of authority and more than a bit turned on by it despite the situation. ~Thank you, love. What is the best use of my talents in this kind of hunt?~

~I can get you hooked up to the city's security net,~ Jazz said. ~That's where I'd have you as most useful, monitoring without the pressure of needing to report or engage. What would you most like to do, what would help you?~ he asked, feeling the increasingly intense knot of tension coming from his lover's frame. 

~That will work nicely,~ Prowl purred, the option to do something so useful and so close to his spark's purpose easing some of the stress he was under. Monitoring, data searches, cross referencing and analyzing. Those were things he excelled at and enjoyed.

Jazz nodded in understanding and started the loop-jumping process of transferring control of the estate search back over to a Polyhex Enforcer while getting his mate access codes for the city's networks. ~I will do everything I can to bring them back to you,~ he promised, relieved that he could do as much as he could to help his mate. For all the grief he'd caused, at least he could do this much in penance.

* * *

Jazz got the first comm for a potential witness to the mecha they were searching for the next orn, long enough that nerves were starting to fray, and the comm came as a welcome relief and something to do. He drove to a station halfway across the city, leaving Prowl in the precinct building to continue monitoring, and was immediately shown to an overstuffed mass cell, full of battered and grimy looking mecha. 

"Which one?" Jazz asked, looking through the crowd. 

"That one," the Enforcer who was showing him in said, pointing to a mech who was sitting on the floor, back to the wall, looking miserable. 

Jazz cocked his head. Guttersmech, not in overall good repair or health. "What was he arrested for?" 

"General rioting and disruption." 

"I'd like to take him with me," Jazz said. "If what he knows is true and valuable, I'll ask that he be released." 

The Enforcer just nodded, and Jazz waited while the single mech was fished out of the crowd and brought to him. 

"Come on," he said, gesturing with his head. "Lunch. And don't try to run, I promise I'll just catch you and make your life worse." 

The guttersmech nodded, his field submissive and just a tiny bit hopeful. He'd heard, or been told, what Jazz had said. He also remained close to the Praxian civilian frame as they left the precinct jail, reassured by the clear deference the local Enforcers gave Jazz.

Jazz led him in silence until they were outside and heading for the small cafe next to the precinct headquarters that mostly catered to the Enforcers. "What's your designation?" he asked as they walked.

"Temoin, sir," the mech tried not to look too skittish around all the Enforcers. It only drew their attention, and he didn't want to be chased before he got the promised meal.

"You can relax," Jazz said, as gently as he could. "I'm not going to do anything to you. And there's a very good deal on the table right now." They reached the counter and Jazz ordered, then looked at the mech. "Anything you want. You can get extra to take with if you'd like." 

Temion tried not to panic at the level of choices he had never encountered before, but survival instincts that had kept him alive this long quickly kicked in. One cube of high grade would fill his tanks and give him a nice buzz, and three regular cubes would keep his entire little cadre, what was left of it anyway, in fuel for most of the decaorn. He gave Jazz a quick glance, just to make sure he hadn't overstepped the offer, but the Praxian simply nodded to both him and the much more subtle glance the server gave him.

Once they had their order, Temoin quickly tucking the regular cubes into subspace, nervous about them being taken away as leverage, Jazz guided him over to a small table in a back corner of the well-lit room, away from the majority of the other mecha. "Simply put," he said, opening a comm line to his mate so he could listen, "So far you're my only witness, and all I want is to know what you saw. You believe you saw three of the mecha that were shown to you. Please tell me what you were doing, and what you saw." At the mech's nervous glance at the Enforcers, Jazz reached over and touched his arm with a comforting brush of his field. His optics glanced towards the subspace pocket with the fuel. "I'm not looking to punish you, here. What is that, a couple decaorns of fuel for you? Less if you're taking for more?"

"Most of a decaorn for my cadre, if we don't have to run from anyone," Temoin said honestly between quick gulps of the high grade, far too well trained at having to consume it quickly or lose it. "I ... I was hiding, sure they were looking for more." His optics flicked to the Enforcers that were studiously ignoring them before settling on Jazz a little more easily. "I was hiding well enough that the five gang mecha dragging three younglings that looked _far_ too nice to be theirs didn't notice me. I could hear 'em arguing about having grabbed too many, that the buyer would only take two."

He shivered and scrunched in on himself. "So one pushed the younglings into the center and they all made circle around them. He told the younglings that he could only keep two, so one would have do die. If all three were still alive in five kliks, he'd shoot one at random." His optics brightened to a near-unseeing level and he whimpered to himself. "There was a yellow one, and he just launched himself at the blue and yellow one, and the red one was right behind him. They-they tore him apart. I never thought anything that young could be that savage. It was over in less than a klik."

Nothing about Jazz changed, field, frame, or expression, and after a moment he lifted his drink and took a deep swallow. "And the gang mecha," he said as he said it back down. "What did they do?" 

"Big one laughed," Temoin said, finishing the high grade with a shiver. "Said they'd better charge double for that kind of temperament. Dunno about the others, I...I couldn't really stop staring at that youngling." He shuddered, then glanced at Jazz. "Look, I woulda stopped 'em if I could've, but, with Enforcers everywhere and them with weapons I've never even seen..." 

"I know," Jazz said, stopping the rambling. "The details you gave the Enforcer who questioned you about location and time are accurate?" 

Temoin nodded readily. He'd risked being charged with the murder of the youngling by telling what he did. He hadn't lied then, he still had no reason too. He wanted those monsters stopped.

Jazz hummed quietly to himself. "Do you know where they went after that?"

"Southeast," he said as he worked to get himself under control with the last of his high grade. "They put the red and yellow ones in the cab of the largest one. One of them laughed about not separating them after what happened last time. Younglings that strong could have walked quite a ways further. They were both in good fuel and repair. They were probably going across the city. Maybe further. Easier to walk younglings otherwise."

"Agreed," Jazz said, and pulled three more cubes of energon out of his subspace, handing them over. "Thank you, that is more helpful than you could know. You have an open tab here for the next joor, and no one will arrest you, the rioting charges have been dropped." He stood. "There are fuel rewards for any more information leading to these mecha, or any of the others whose picture you were shown. Let your cadre know, spread that word."

Temoin's optics spiraled wide, and he nodded quickly. "I will, thank you." He quickly made the extra cubes disappear into his subspace. "Who should be contacted with information?"

"Any Enforcer, tell them it's information for Saxo," Jazz said, and left. ::Love?:: he asked as soon as he was outside, worried by the silence.

::I have no questions, nothing to suggest,:: Prowl responded quickly, a warmth to his tone that Jazz wasn't used to. ::I knew you could interrogate with pain. Now I know you can interrogate with kindness as well. You've grown up so much. I'm so proud of you, love.::

Jazz paused, happily surprised by that answer. ::Well, he wasn't very likely to spread any word along if I'd beaten him up for it,:: he said, trying to sound completely casual despite the fluttering in his spark. ::It sounds like they're alive and together. They're valuable, they won't be killed. We just need to find them.::

::Agreed. I've begun focusing southeastward of the murder site for their likely alt modes. This city does not have nearly the security network that Praxus has. Only the major roadways and wealthy sectors have coverage worth calling such,:: he was both exasperated and making note for if they ever needed to hide again. ::They knew there were no recorders to capture the fight or exactly where they left.:: There was another pause. ::You did well, and you were far kinder than you needed to be. That's the good in your spark, and no trying to say otherwise, my love. You are a good mech.::

Jazz stopped walking, well aware that Prowl could be watching him through one of the cameras lining the street, and likely was, needing that moment of stillness to collect himself back up from the way such a simple assurance left him feeling rended. He'd wondered. He'd had his own unvoiced doubts. ::I love you,:: he said softly, and started walking again.

* * *

At fifty-three joors into the search, Prowl was ready to admit defeat as far as searching via surveillance was concerned. He logged a simple program to keep up with the feeds, look for any of the six known individuals he wanted to find, and ping his comm if any showed up. With a stretch as he stood, privately wincing at how little it took to make him fidgety. He did enjoy being an Enforcer, but it was taking quite a toll on his ability to sit still.

::Saxo,:: the comm ping went to his love.

::Find something?:: came the immediate response. 

::That it is time for recharge and I would like to do so with you,:: Prowl responded simply but warmly. ::Do we have quarters already, or should I rent a room?::

::I have a hotel room for us,:: Jazz said. ::Figured you might want to recharge eventually.:: He pinged over an address. ::I'll meet you there?::

::Yes,:: Prowl purred warmly in approval and closed the line to focus on driving through unfamiliar territory. He was well aware of the polite but evident tail he was given to keep him safe and made it easy for the local Enforcer to follow him. Prowl send a ping of thanks when he pulled into the hotel grounds and transformed.

He was immediately tackled by a warm frame that pulled him into a deep kiss. Jazz had been working with street patrols and helping with physical searches in areas that were less protected by surveillance, and Prowl hadn't physically seen his mate yet that orn. Something they were used to, but not in circumstances like this. "How are you?" Jazz asked, touching, teeking, reassuring himself. 

"Tired, stiff and missing you," Prowl murmured, gratefully relaxing into the embrace and returning it. "You mentioned a room?"

Jazz nodded. "I kind of splurged," he admitted, taking Prowl's hand and leading him in. "Thought you might enjoy an in-room washrack." 

"Very much so," Prowl held back a moan and allowed his mate to guide him into the building. His field wrapped around Jazz warmly, happy and affectionate while Jazz took him through the building and entered a code to their room, only letting the weary slump to his frame show once they were inside and the door closed. "I can't believe we haven't found anything yet," he sighed. "I thought for sure..." 

"So did I," Prowl admitted, drawing his mate close and simply holding still for a lingering moment to take comfort in each other. "Primus, if we didn't have the kind of resources we do...."

"We'd have less than nothing," Jazz said, shaking his head, holding him just as tightly. "Come on, I think some hot solvent will help, I'd like to just stand in there with you for a while." 

Prowl nodded and nuzzled him before they moved towards the washrack, never losing physical contact as it was turned on and they stepped under the warm spray. Prowl allowed himself to groan, his armor expanding and loosening to allow the solvent deep inside his frame.

"Tense," Jazz murmured, slipping fingers beneath plating, pressing against tension cables. "Didn't you at least stand up and walk around once that whole time, or did you completely forget to take care of yourself?" 

"I remembered energon, but not to stretch," Prowl groaned more deeply at the attention. "There was a time not that long ago that I could sit still for orns at a time without more than a cube of mid grade to keep me going."

Jazz was quiet for a moment. "More than orns," he said, working his thumbs up and down the back strut. "But you don't have to, and your frame isn't in that kind of shape anymore. You--need--movement," he said, accenting each word with a hard push.

"I'm remembering that," Prowl felt his engine roar in anticipation of a workout. It was an Enforcer's pursuit engine and his frame was now a match. While he'd never need movement like a true racer, everything about him was about strength, power and action now. It was not a change he had managed to integrate yet. Part of him would always desire the physical stillness of immersion in the data networks and guiding them.

Jazz smiled and revved his engine in response. "Is that how you feel like stretching your frame back out?" he asked, then more seriously, "You feel up to that? Not just for me?"

Prowl moaned at the vibrations. His hands found his mate's and extracted them from under his armor so he could turn around and all but pounce on the mech he loved so much. Lips wet and locked, glossa tangled and Prowl's hands found Jazz's doorwings as he backed Jazz against the washrack wall.

They were both panting through fluffing and contracting their armor by the time their mouths parted enough to speak.

"Not just for you, love," Prowl murmured, faint shivers caressing his armor as he reached one hand down to tease Jazz's spike cover. "Was I the last to touch you, the last to bring you pleasure?"

"No," Jazz admitted. "Radiance--" He moaned softly and pushed into the touch, cover sliding away. "I was too charged up, he helped."

"Good," Prowl's voice pitched lower as he kissed along the line of Jazz's jaw while his fingers played around the spike housing, circling it and teasing the head. "You have no idea how hot it makes me to think of him pleasuring you. That he's good enough for you to turn to when I'm not around."

"He is, he absolutely is," Jazz purred, tilting his helm back for his lover, running his hands over every part of Prowl's frame that he could reach. "For you too, I think."

"He does fill an emptiness I had never been aware of before," Prowl murmured as his fingers and lip plates continued to tease. "It feels _good_ to contemplate a triad."

"He's not going anywhere, and neither am I," Jazz said, spike pressurizing into the knowing fingers, both thrilled and relieved that the stress surrounding them was still something he could help lessen when they were alone. His hand crept down, slid alongside Prowl's, and then dipped between his lover's legs, teasing at his valve cover. It slid open smoothly with a welcoming moan for the touch.

"You can have that, or I can keep my hand where it is while I fill you, pound you into the wall," Prowl's voice was rough with desire.

Jazz groaned deeply. "Promise you'll make it rough," he said, leg sliding up his lover's body, hooking around his hip. He pulled Prowl into a kiss, slow and deep. "And when you're done," he murmured, "I'll lay you down on the berth and rock you until you can't stay online."

"I know what calms you, love," Prowl promised, his spike pressurizing between them smoothly and quickly to rub against the valve platelets and cover itself in lubrication.

"You always have," Jazz breathed, moving his hips, rubbing against the length. He nipped at Prowl's jaw. "D'you wanna see if Radiance wants to listen? Or just us?"

The hard rev Prowl's engine gave was all the answer either needed. Prowl pinged their lover, carefully marking it as non-critical. Jazz grinned and rested his head on Prowl's shoulder, playing his fingers along his mate's backstrut as the comm was accepted, Jazz patched into the call, and the concerned sound of their lover's voice came over it.

::How are things?::

::No progress since the last time we commed, but Pantera finally realized that taking a break is good for him,:: Jazz said. 

::That doesn't sound like the Pantera I know. He would never forget to take breaks,:: Radiance said fondly.

::No more often than you,:: Prowl teased back. ::But we actually called hoping you are somewhere private at the moment.:: He dropped his harmonics to a low pitch and hummed, giving no doubt as to what he had in mind. ::I have this lovely Praxian pinned against the washrack wall, rubbing my spike along his valve, his spike in hand, and we were hoping you'd join in, at least verbally.::

There was a startled, silent moment, and then a brief, ::Hang on,:: before the line cut. 

Jazz chuckled, nuzzling against Prowl's neck, and after just a short wait, the connection ping came back in. 

::Please, _please_ tell me you haven't started,:: Radiance said.

::Not so much as twitched,:: Prowl purred. ::Saxo, what do you think of playing out one of his fantasies? Let him talk us through it, motion by motion.::

::As long as you have enough energy to pound me good and hard when we're done if that isn't what he wants,:: Jazz purred. ::Otherwise yes.::

::I'm Praxian, love. Of course I have the energy for it,:: Prowl teased with a nip to Jazz's neck. ::So, our dear Radiance, what shall we do?::

::It sounds like Saxo needs a pounding,:: Radiance purred. ::And you are certainly the mech for it, Pantera. But you know how much I enjoy slow teasing, working up so slowly that it almost hurts to not give. Will you tease him for me?::

"Yes," Prowl's answer was almost breathy, adding his voice to Jazz's pleasures even as he transmitted over the comm. He slowly rocked his hips, sliding the ridges and lines of his elegantly carved spike through the swollen mass of Jazz's platelets and against the sensitive valve rim. "He's far too young to last like we do, to want to last, but I'll bring him to overload positioned just like this. His leg over my hip, his back against the wall, and my spike just rubbing between his legs. He's such a sight when his pleasure's building."

::That sounds so lovely,:: Radiance said, voice thick with arousal. ::You'll forgive me if I don't hold myself to similar restraint. Want to hear you in your desperation, Saxo, every moan and plea.::

Jazz whined, holding Prowl tightly, rocking his hips along the hardness. "Has to be until I overload?" he asked, already quivering at the thought of how long that was going to take.

"Or until Radiance says I can drive into you," Prowl growled, shifting both his hands to Jazz's hips to hold him still. His mouth found Jazz's neck and nipped at it. "It feels good though, doesn't it? To feel me against you, so intimate but not yet joined."

"Yes," Jazz moaned. "Radiance..."

::Don't worry, I'm going to make him hold out for this one,:: Radiance said to Prowl. ::We'll get him trained, you and I.::

"Frag you both!" Jazz gasped, but his field clearly accepting of what they were planning. His hips twitched uselessly in his lover's hold. "I'm an elite trained agent and this is cruel!" 

::But so intimate,:: Radiance said. ::Calm, Saxo, focus on the way it feels to know that your lover, your _mate_ , is touching you like this. Something so hidden, and beautiful, hot and flush.:: 

Jazz inhaled, vented, relaxed, and shivered. "Yes, it's good," he whispered, neck bared. "'Tera..."

"Love you, my beautiful Saxo," Prowl moaned, his lips traveling along the offered cables as his hips continued to slide back and forth, reveling in the tiny tingles of sensation so different from any other intimacy. "Your throat tastes so good, your submission, trusting me to bring you pleasure, trusting Radiance to want nothing but our pleasure, is so _hot_."

"I trust you with my life, both of you," Jazz murmured, shivering from the tiny sensation zaps that the textures of his lover's spike were causing. The charge build from each was barely more than a brush of static, a slow, tantalizing pace. "Faster?" he moaned after just a few kliks.

::A little,:: Radiance agreed, his ventilations already harsh from his charge. ::It'll blow your processors, Saxo.::

"It will," Prowl agreed, shifting to tease his fingers into Jazz's hip joints as he sped up his thrusts and found Jazz's lips for a heated kiss. "You feel amazing, love. Imagine doing this with Radiance behind you, sliding his spike opposite mine. His hands holding you still so mine can play with your doorwings. Your moans are so sweet, intoxicating to us both."

Jazz groaned, finding Prowl's mouth for another clashing kiss. "That would be so hot," he finally managed. "Knowing your spikes were rubbing together between my legs. After I overloaded--" He broke off with a long, low moan, and gathered himself again, fingers clutching Prowl's back. "After I overloaded, you'd pierce me together, stretch me."

"Yes," Prowl moaned into the kiss while Radiance moaned across their comms. "Fill you so tightly, so full of _us_."

::Let you _feel_ what a triad means in the berth,:: Radiance moaned again, a bit of static in his transmission. ::Oh Saxo, we'll make you feel so good for letting me close. Does Pantera feel good, rubbing between your legs? I bet he knows exactly how to move to hit every sensor just right, just enough to stimulate but not enough to make you shake. Not yet.::

"I will, when he lets me," Prowl picked up easily, shifting his stance a fraction to cause a bit more stimulation without speeding up. "I'll make you scream my designation as you overload around nothing, your valve desperate to be filled, and then I'll drive myself inside you and pound you until there's a dent in the wall and you and can't even beg anymore."

"Want that," Jazz gasped. "And it's so good, Radiance, he's so good, teasing just like you want, please, _please_ \--"

::Not yet,:: Radiance said. ::Not yet, lovely, your mate knows what I want, knows how badly you need to want it first.::

Jazz groaned in a mix of bliss and frustration, still pinned by Prowl's hands. "How long?" 

::He'll know,:: Radiance said, and his voice was wavering and tense. ::I've pushed him to that edge, held him there without letting him overload. He's so hot like that, makes you ache to be in him and feel his ecstasy. Pantera,:: he moaned. ::Tell me how he looks, how he feels, going to imagine my spike right next to yours.::

"Optics have gone off, his mouth open, jaw slack, helm back to give me his throat," Prowl moaned, shivering with the pleasure building inside him. "He feels amazing, taut and wanting so much, but not there. Not yet. He's impossibly slick. You'd slide right along, rub against me, sparking a few more joules of charge."

::Primus,:: Radiance moaned. ::Everything charged and touching and grinding. Hot and wet and hard, the trust of a triad and being bared to your lovers as they are bared to you, Saxo, we'll give you that, we'll take you between us.::

Jazz shuddered in Prowl's hold. "Lover, lovers--not enough, more, 'Tera!"

::He won't give into begging,:: Radiance gasped. ::He's doing what I'm telling him, waiting until you're right on the edge, giving you hardly enough to push you over, overload you without satisfying you, preparing your frame for his pleasure.::

"It's worth it, love, it's so worth it," Prowl promised, repeating it as a mantra for his young mate as Jazz clung to him with a low sob of need. Prowl had never denied him like this before, but he could feel how hot it made him, hear how hot it was making Radiance, and that was all that enabled him to stay still without breaking Prowl's hold and driving onto his spike.

The comm went silence but for panting, gasping moans while Radiance listened to his lovers and they listened to him, Prowl moving slowly, carefully, coaxing, until Jazz's frame was trembling with unfilled need and the slowly-built charge that was now making the young mech run burning hot. 

::How is he doing?:: Radiance gasped suddenly, sounding like he was moments away from his own tilt over the edge. ::He sounds beautiful.::

"He's ready to break, lover," Prowl moaned, his lips near Jazz's audial. "He's shaking as hard as you are. So full of need, he's being so good for us. You don't have much longer if you want to overload first."

::No,:: came the immediate answer. ::I'll let go when you pierce him, when I hear your cries together. Want to hear you in pleasure together, so much. Let him break.::

Jazz almost sobbed to know that release was so close and forced unfocused, pleasure-bright optics online to look into Prowl's. " _Please._ " 

Prowl could only moan, his field flaring hot and bright with need as he shifted his grip and sped up significantly. He lifted one hand from Jazz's hips and closed it around the ignored spike between them. "Overload, my mate. Cry out so we can hear you. As soon as you let go, I'll be inside you, driving you to a second and third and fourth peak."

It took just moments, _nothing_ to them, of pressure that was harder than the teasing, brushing strokes, and fingers around his spike, finally bringing some relief to the aching metal, and Jazz screamed, valve clenching desperately for something to grip as it shuddered and spasmed in an overload that was almost _painful_ in its intensity and the emptiness. His hips bucked, grinding against the length, desperate to sheath his lover and hear Radiance's overload.

His next cry was as much relief as bliss when it mixed with Prowl's roar of finally burying himself deep inside his mate. With a growl Prowl shifted his grip to Jazz's hips again and lifted him up, driving into him deep, hard and fast and using gravity to make each thrust deeper. Jazz wrapped his arms around Prowl's neck and shoulders and held tightly, face pressed against his frame, sobbing with each push, dizzy and all but lost. "Radiance--" he managed to gasp, reaching for their lover. 

::I'm here,:: Radiance moaned. ::Pantera--tell me he's slick, and hot, and how deep--not much longer I can't hold--please, tell me, want to feel it with you.::

"He's beyond slick, lover. He needs to be _filled_ in a way I don't," Prowl panted, his pleasure soaring even as he sought to drive Jazz to a second overload before he let go. "Slick and scalding hot and I'm in _so_ deep. I can feel you in here with me, stretching him further than he'd even been before. Driving me mad as you rub against me inside him. He loves it but I _need_ it. Please, lover, let me hear your cry out. Let me heard you call his designation with me."

::That's all I need,:: Radiance moaned, as Jazz cried out and arched, valve clamping down around Prowl, and at the same moment, a bright rush of static came over the comm line as Radiance shouted. ::I'm there!:: he cried. ::I'm there, I'm right there against you, I'm--I'm--oh, close _close_ \--I--I-- _aah!_ :: 

If there was more, it was drowned out by the sound of Radiance's scream of Jazz's designation, ecstatic and burning across the line, harmonics that pitched it right to Prowl. 

It was all the Praxian could take, wanted to take, and one further thrust and he let go, roaring for Saxo, then Radiance as he filled his mate, thrusting into the trembling, overloading valve with each pump of crackling fluid and continuing to thrust deep and hard even when his overload was spent. He moved to Radiance's encouraging moans and purrs and Jazz's cries, keeping his promise to pound his lover into the wall, going until Jazz's final overload dropped him offline, limp in his arms.

::He's offline?:: Radiance asked, knowingly and purring deeply.

::Yes,:: Prowl purred just as deeply as he gently began untangling his frame from Jazz's and shifting so the worst of their mess could be rinsed off by the still-hot solvent. ::That was very enjoyable to have you join us.::

::Intensely enjoyable. It was not what I was expecting when I received your comm request,:: Radiance said. ::I swear you two are going to make me lose my job. Charade was pretty sure I was being murdered for a moment.:: There was a brief hesitation, almost too short to be noticed. ::I'll be out there as soon as I can. And not just because...but you know that.::

::Oh, lover, you should have said you were working. There would have been another call,:: Prowl chided him gently. ::I do know. I wish you were here too, but duty first, love. Duty comes first. I'm not keen on the idea of Mortar out to get me, you know,:: he added a bit teasingly as he turned the blowers on to dry them off. ::How are things going in Praxus?::

::You think I was going to just turn an opportunity like that down?:: Radiance hummed. ::Seriously, what is use of training a Second and a team if they can't take over when my lovers comm me all hot and heavy like that. Plus Mortar's a pushover, he adores you. Praxus is fine, it got a little tense with Enforcers being jumpy that anyone might start riots here as well, but so far, nothing. Busy as Pit busting weapons dealers though,:: he sighed. 

::Anyone new to the game?:: Jazz's voice suddenly joined back in, taking his own weight back onto his pedes. ::The gangsters here had some nasty equipment they might be looking to sell before it IDs them somewhere.:: 

::No, I'm sorry, these are busts we've been tracking for vorns. I will let you know if there's a new merchandise flood anywhere, though.::

Jazz sighed, wrapping his arms around Prowl and nuzzling. ::Thank you.::

::We'll comm you again if there's any news on this end, or when I take another break,:: Prowl cooed, promising another very enjoyable call if Radiance hadn't made it to Polyhex yet. ::Have fun on your weapons busts in the meantime.::

::Fun,:: Radiance repeated dryly, but both his lovers knew fully well how much he enjoyed his function. ::I look forward to whichever comes first, take care of each other.:: 

::We will,:: they promised in unison, and the comm line cut. 

Jazz pulled Prowl into a soft kiss. "Come on," he murmured. "Let's go lay down. Thank you for cleaning up."

Prowl simply hummed his contentment on several levels and collected his mate against his side for the short walk to their berth overlooking the well-lit wealthy district that hadn't been hit. When they were both settled, Prowl circled a tentative finger around Jazz's dataport. It wasn't like they really had anything secretive to talk about, but it was a comfortable habit in stressful times and unfamiliar places.

The warm, grateful flare to Jazz's field told him his lover had been wanting the same thing and the port spiraled open under the touch as Jazz reached to take Prowl's cable in hand, first lifting it to his lips in a soft kiss, and then clicking it into his chest. ~You miss having him here,~ Jazz said softly, without judgment or any kind of ill feeling.

~Yes,~ Prowl acknowledged with a brush of affection and thanks for the acceptance. ~I'd long thought Praxian was just a frame. I know better now. But more than a third ... it's ... I try very hard to never mention the twins around you.~

~I know,~ Jazz said, touching their helms together. ~I appreciate that, more than you can know. I'm so sorry I could never be part of your life with them. And I'm so glad he could be. Can be.~ He sighed. ~I love you, I want you to have everything you need.~

~You provide everything I need, love,~ Prowl insisted. ~You provide most of what I want.~ He x-vented gently and tipped their faces for a tender kiss. ~You're even growing quite fond of the idea of including Radiance in our lives completely. I don't _need_ a third, but he does make me feel more complete to have with us, as part of _us_.~

~You have a coding advantage over me,~ Jazz murmured. ~It's still hard to imagine him meaning as much to me as you do, or to think I ever might someday feel that strongly about another. I _do_ care for him, deeply. I want him in our lives. I've...~ He paused, a flicker of indecision in his field and over their hardline. ~I've been studying code, noble code, and seeing what I can do with what remains of the conformation coding. If my chosen wants a triad, so will I.~

~Oh love. I would much rather this comes naturally. Even if we were not hiding from a powerful mech, it is a _huge_ step, and not to be taken lightly.~ Prowl kissed him again, softly. Despite the words and the truth behind them, there was no hiding that it warmed Prowl that Jazz would even think of it. ~You do not need to love him as much as you love me, so long as you do love him before he is triad. I know it is difficult to contemplate doubling your vorns and more before deciding, but it is _normal_ to take such time. Love, trust me when I tell you that even if he is never allowed closer than he is now, I am grateful for what you allow us.~

Jazz's faint smile was almost wry. ~What could be more natural than using the coding I was kindled to sustain?~ he asked. ~I was meant to bind myself to one mech and want to shape myself to his desires. It...just so happened that I chose that mech myself, instead of allowing one to be chosen for me. But I will leave the coding alone. We have centuries, and a full courtship to learn to love him, and him us.~

~Thank you,~ Prowl felt tension he hadn't notice creep into him dissipate. ~We have both been so badly damaged by coding we did not choose. He has no grasp of just how little freedom either of us have. I don't ... I don't want him disgusted by what he sees when we let him in.~

~You really think he might be?~ Jazz's focus sharpened.

Prowl could only nod for a brief moment. ~Love, you haven't integrated into commoner society. What we are, what we were raised to think is so normal, it horrifies most of them. It's why pre-progs are thought so badly of. They don't want to admit to themselves that their spark is free because of simple luck.~

Jazz was quiet for several kliks, turning that over in his processor while stroking his fingers over Prowl's doorwing. ~It's...little better than slavery, isn't it,~ he finally said. ~Gilded slavery. Nobles believe a pre-prog's spark is of lesser value than a sparked one, which is worth less than a kindled one. They treat pleasurebots and servants as a disposable resource, but their own creations have almost as much directive coding.~ He huffed. ~If we tell him, and he cannot handle it, we still have each other.~

~Yes, and we will move on,~ Prowl said firmly. ~Physically or simply emotionally, we will always have each other. I am testing him, seeing how he reacts to related subjects. I believe he will accept us. I intend to be sure before we are that vulnerable.~

~He is sparked, himself,~ Jazz murmured thoughtfully, and with a gentle nudge, pushed Prowl onto his back, moving over him, stretched out and settled between his legs. ~Albeit into a sparkling frame and with little directive coding. He knows worse things about me than that I am a noble, or you a seneschal, and still cares for me.~ He drew Prowl into a deep kiss that was returned with a warm embrace. ~I have seen him treat broken pleasurebots with compassion.~

~As have I. He is a good mech. I have little doubt. He cares deeply for us already. It is just so much. I am risking _you_ when I tell him. I can not be too careful of that moment.~ Prowl moaned softly into the contact and held his love tightly. ~I simply wish to be sure of his acceptance before I tell him.~

Jazz grinned, nudging his hips forward. ~You could always tell him, delete the memory, and tell him again,~ he said, teasing fondly. ~It will be fine, no matter what happens. My love?~

"Mmm?" Prowl hummed, collecting his attention for the subject shift.

~I have not heard my designation in your voice in far too long,~ Jazz said, one hand running down his lover's frame to rest at his hip. ~Nor have I said yours as often as I would like. Prowl, my beautiful Prowl.~

~I know, my Jazz,~ he allowed the sadness to flow. ~I wish I felt safe enough to use it far more often.~

~Shh, I know,~ Jazz murmured, soothing. ~Do you remember that night, the first night he took me and broke me,~ he pressed soft, loving kisses all over Prowl's face. ~Prowl, you whispered to me, 'Jazz, my Jazz,' ... that moment was the happiest I had ever felt in my life.~

~I remember,~ Prowl shivered. That memory hurt, but that his mate could remember sweetness in those horrible, painful joors soothed it considerably.

~You make me happier than I could have ever dared to hope for, once,~ Jazz said, voice low and soft. Prowl felt the light brush of a charged cable over his interfacing dataport. ~May I? I want to help you into recharge, and hear our designations cried out together.~

~Yes,~ Prowl moaned and spiraled it open without hesitation. ~Just having you in my arms helps my recharge, love. This, this is bliss.~


	30. Hunting Angry

It took three more orns of constant searching, but finally, Prowl and Jazz received a comm they had been waiting for. 

::Saxo, we have a positive identification to one of those mecha,:: came the commissioner's message. Jazz patched Prowl in immediately.

::Which one?::

The commissioner sent the image file over. ::He was found attempting to leave the city borders, carrying concealed, unlicensed weapons.::

::Has he said anything?:: Jazz asked.

::No, nothing.::

::Good,:: Jazz said. ::No one talks to him but me. Just make sure he doesn't get away and I'll arrange the details.:: He cut the line to the commissioner. ::Pantera?::

::This would be easiest if we interrogate him in one of your rooms, though I'm sure we can make due with an improvisational location. There are wide stretches of this city that no one listens to screaming.::

::A room is more secure,:: Jazz said. ::I'm not leaving any part of this up to chance, _I_ have to control the environment completely for that. Whiplash has access to one beneath Polyhex, I'll have to go through him. How often would you like updates? I can't comm out once I'm in.::

::I want to be there, if it's not too much trouble,:: Prowl's voice was calm and polite, but Jazz could hear the sub harmonics of deep, building rage that was about to turn bitingly cold and very dangerous.

::I don't think it would be,:: Jazz hummed. ::You'd be tagged while you're underground, monitored constantly, and you cannot leave my side, but...I think that would be okay. That's mild compared to the rest of it,:: he added, wincing slightly.

Prowl paused, taking in everything said, unsaid and tone. ::I can hack him,:: he offered quietly.

::Absolutely not,:: Jazz said. ::I know you don't want to, and I _do_ want to lay into someone. Meet me at this precinct,:: he said and pinged the location, already transformed and heading in that direction. Once Prowl had accepted and affirmed, Jazz closed the line, cycled his vents once, and pinged his trainer and commander. ::Whiplash?::

::You've been quite full of yourself since I turned you loose.:: Whiplash's reply was an annoyed rumble, but it didn't contain nearly the venom Jazz had been expecting. ::Let me guess, you want access to the Polyhex facility.::

::Yes, please?:: Jazz said, adding a repentant but hopeful trill to his voice. ::They found a mech who was with the ones that took Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.::

There was a pause, one much longer than needed, and Jazz knew it.

::Granted.:: Whiplash told him when Jazz was half way to the precinct. ::I will see you there.::

Jazz felt a jump of nervous anticipation in his spark. He hadn't gotten the lashing he'd expected, so...hopefully his trainer was in a benevolent mood. ::Aaand...let's say you were to see Pantera there as well, how would that go?::

There was dead silence of the stunned variety for a lingering moment. ::Have you _completely_ lost your tenuous grip on sanity? You _want_ that stuck in the mud, rule-locked _Praxian Enforcer_ to watch a kill interrogation?::

::He is not--!:: Jazz started to protest, then stopped, reconsidered. ::Those are only sides of him. There's another side, a darker side, if he's angered enough, and I promise you, he's angered enough.::

Whiplash gave it a long consideration, making Jazz squirm on the road a bit. ::You know I'll force you to make him _go away_ if he can't take it.::

Jazz steeled his resolve up for a moment. ::I know. But _you_ know what he's lived through and you _should_ know he can handle this.::

::I know what he's survived.:: Whiplash acknowledged slowly. ::I'd rather you didn't lose him.::

::I have no intention of losing him,:: Jazz rumbled back, certainty and pride clear in his voice. ::He can handle this.::

Whiplash's hum was less certain but he didn't argue before closing the line.

Prowl was waiting for him outside and Jazz transformed to greet him, pulling his mate into a tight embrace, the first time he'd seen him in almost two orns. "You're sure you want to watch?" he asked, touching their helms together. Prowl's field meshed with his, fierceness mixed with calm in a combination that made Jazz want to snuggle in closer to that sensation that was only Prowl.

"Yes, I do," Prowl said, and his field backed him up. "I do not wish for you to separate such a large part of your existence from me, and ... I want to hurt him as much as you do." 

Jazz stroked his helm. "I'm not worried about you seeing what I do so much as...remembering me do it. I don't want to do that to you."

"I will be fine," Prowl promised, his field backing up how certain he was of this. "Let's get our subject," he rumbled dangerously.

Jazz nodded once and they entered, creating a back-strut straightening tension in the entire room. Every Enforcer in Polyhex had heard about the Imperial agent whose creations had been taken, and none of them wanted to stand in his way. "All I need is the prisoner and a transport," he said, focusing in on the commissioner. 

The mech nodded calmly. "Where are we taking him?" he asked, though he looked like he had a good idea. 

Jazz grinned and databurst him the location. He took one moment to glance at it, then nodded, having confirmed his suspicions that this prisoner would not be reemerging. When Jazz's kind took one with them, the few times it had happened, they never came back. 

"We will accompany," Jazz said. "No other escort is required." 

"If you'll follow me, there is a transport out back," the commissioner said, and led them into the building.

* * *

Their prisoner strung up the way Jazz preferred them in the interrogation room, Prowl properly scanned and tagged to be with him, and the Polyhex facility set to forward any developments through to them, Jazz and Prowl stood in the small antechamber, watching the video screen showing what was on the other side of the wall. 

"Don't show anything once we're in there, even with your doorwings, as much as you can. I doubt he can read wing language, but it's better to be safe. Stand far enough away that he can't teek you," Jazz said. 

Prowl nodded, not contesting the instruction. "What are you attempting to avoid him learning from me?"

"It isn't so much what I want to avoid him learning, so much as you accidentally strengthening any resolve he might have. If he sees too much anger, he might realize he's going to die no matter what." Jazz's optics glittered strangely. "That can strengthen resolve not to talk more than anything. He needs to have hope that he's getting out alive. Seeing pleasure can do the same thing, too much too fast and they'll get bitter on you. And no matter what, do not show _any_ discomfort. That's for your own safety." 

Jazz felt understanding click as the interrogation rules Prowl had been taught as an Enforcer and those that applied here fell into place.

"I will keep my distance, and show no distress," Prowl promised as he quietly locked his frame and field down. These were protocols that were intended to allow him to defuse domestics and other high-emotion situations without seeming to take a side, but they worked well in any situation where he did not wish to give away his true feelings.

"Then let's go," Jazz purred, truly looking forward to lay hands on someone who had attacked the estate with his mate's creations inside. 

The door slid open to his mental command and they walked in, Prowl moving to be against the wall and Jazz approaching the strung-up gangster. 

"I have to congratulate you," he said, amiably, as he started his initial stroll. "For being stupid enough to get caught, you were at least bright enough to pick a group with a good action plan, or maybe that was just dumb luck?"

The mech looked a bit confused, glancing between the obvious authority figure that was Prowl to the seeming civilian in charge that was Jazz, then again when it sank in that they were both Praxian and not locals.

"Yes, hello," Jazz said, coming around front again and seeing realization dawn. "You're not with Enforcers, you've stumbled your way into something much, much worse. I'll give you fair warning, I don't have to follow any rules." He watched while that sank in for a moment. "You are, unfortunately, the closest thing I can find linking back to my missing creations. Do you know what kind of mood that puts me in?"

As strange as it was for a gangster, the mech gave a frantic look towards Prowl, optics bright with shock and pleading for the rule-enforcer to enforce some rules.

"They're my creations as well," Prowl answered the obvious question. "This isn't my jurisdiction. It's his."

Horror flickered across the mech's field before he growled, gathered himself and glared at Jazz. "Weren't no Prax littles."

"They didn't look Praxian, took after my frame and I'm all cosmetics," Jazz said. "You weren't in the group that made it down to where they were and took them, which is fairly lucky for you, but you were with the ones who did. I want designations."

"I du know who went down," the mech said. "Don't know who went where."

::I wouldn't mind knowing who was in the kitchen either,:: Prowl commed privately. ::That is very much secondary, however. Nothing will bring him back.::

"Didn't ask who went where, did I," Jazz said. "You're not telling me you didn't know the designations of who went in with you. Where did you go, if you didn't go down?"

"Not giving up everybody cause a couple tweaked your gears," he snapped, pulling at the chains. "What good are littles anyway? No' even you kept them!"

Prowl's engine growled angrily, and Jazz was sure that if this had been a different setting his mate would have assaulted the mech for those words. Behind his back, Jazz gestured for silence, and calm, eying their prisoner as he did. Prowl complied, though Jazz knew it was completely external. Internally, Prowl would still be molten, but so long as he didn't show it everything was fine. "Then tell me who your buyer was. Someone was ready to buy younglings before the raid even started. Who?"

"I don't know. That's not my gig." The prisoner growled in frustration, but his optics, his fear, were firmly locked on Prowl. "I'm just a guard."

Jazz let him keep that fear on Prowl for a few more moments, before patting the mech's cheek with a dagger pulled smoothly from his subspace. As soon as he had the startled, alarmed attention directed back at him, he shrugged. "Well, it was worth a shot," he said, tracing the edge along the jawline. "At least you know what I want. Designations, ranks, everything you know about your companions, and anything about your buyer. Got that?"

"You expect me to give up my entire gang so you can destroy them all trying to find one or two that _might_ know what happened," he growled, though it wasn't a very intimidating sound. "No."

"Understood. D'you know who was in the kitchen?" Jazz asked, almost off-handedly, pleased to note than Prowl really had calmed down. His ability to display self-control was admirable, but Jazz knew him well enough to know when he was holding too much in.

The thug had to work to follow the shifting topic and even more to work out the glyphs he'd never heard before.

::Love, I'm not sure he would know a kitchen if he was in it. But they'd be the group that had the most confections, candies and prepared energon. Those that came back with just cubes were probably in storage.::

"Oooobviously not," Jazz drawled, smirking, acknowledging his mate with a ping. "I'll make it simpler. Who came back with the ritziest fuel? Confections, cakes, candies, flavored energon?"

"Babble..." he snapped his mouth shut against the _want_ for more of that incredible stuff and the realization he'd already given up a designation.

"That's a start," Jazz said brightly. "Let me know if you think of more. Shall we get started, then?"

* * *

As he followed Whiplash into the observation area, Radiance had to stop and take a moment to collect himself when he saw what was inside. He knew what interrogators did, he even had a few on his own team who worked on Enforcer prisoners. He knew what Saxo was, and did. 

But it was something else to _see_ it in full, living color, live, right in front of him. 

Jazz was casually picking through an energon-coated mess that had once been the neck of the mech that was hanging from the ceiling. When the vocalizer was uncovered, he straightened and stepped back, head tilted almost curiously. 

"I think I've gotten everything I can out of him," he commented, and turned to grin at his mate. "Which means now I can stop pretending and have some real fun." 

" _Pantera_ is in there?" Radiance gasped, seeing the Enforcer for the first time from where he was leaning, perfectly still, against the wall. 

"He wants to be there," Whiplash didn't hide the grumble, or how his harmonics shifted as he took in that the frame wasn't still out of numbness or shock, but because he was relaxed. "First time too." He cocked his helm and studied the Enforcer. "Whatever Pit he came from hardened him more than I expected."

The victim gave a strangled sounding moan that made Jazz hum before he walked to Prowl and drew him into a tender kiss that quickly drew heated as Jazz was pulled against his mate. "Which means you can stop pretending, too, love," he murmured when Prowl finally let him go. "For you, because he helped the ones who took your creations." 

Prowl's engine roared to life and he stalked forward, every inch the commanding figure and reveling in the vindictive fire consuming him as he walked around the mangled form, then looked at his mate. "You know, of all the times I've seen this from your perspective, I've never actually been here when you killed." Prowl rumbled and drew Jazz into another hungry kiss. "Make him _hurt_ , love. Get yourself so worked up you're burning, then show me how good it is for you to end it the way you like."

Whiplash raised an optic ridge and considered the scene even more seriously. "Pantera is more a match for Saxo than he lets on."

"I did try to snag him for you," Radiance said, still teeking uneasy by what he was watching, but gradually less and less so. In the next moment the mech was screaming so loud that anything Radiance might have added would have been drowned out, before the volume lowered suddenly, no doubt by the matte black mech next to him. "There was nothing to hook him with."

"He's an odd one," Whiplash acknowledged. "Doesn't want money, power, not even to stretch his capabilities. He has a hook, and it has him good, but it's not a hook that's of much use to reel him in quickly. Why _does_ a mech like that want to be a beat cop?"

Radiance's smile when he turned his gaze to Prowl was warm. "Because he wants to be." He glanced at Whiplash, smirked. "Not even you have something to offer someone who just wants to be an honest, working, helpful part of society."

"True," Whiplash huffed, watching as his agent began to play with his toy, destroying it a bit at a time, but really watching his agent's mate and how the Enforcer responded to the screams, energon and thrashing that turned Jazz on so effectively. "My world exists outside theirs. He's got the ball bearings for this, though. How much have they told you?"

"Little," Radiance said carefully. "They know each other's stories, they've been hurt, and they're hiding, and there is little truth to their official records. But as for what _is_ true..." He glanced at the Ops mech. "I learned something, once, Pantera said too much, he asked me to delete it."

"And you did," Whiplash quirked his mouth up in a knowing grin. "You big softie. I'll keep their real designations out of your range then."

Radiance huffed. "Of course I did. Just because you lack the capacity for something like love or compassion doesn't mean everyone else does."

"I have the protocols for both," Whiplash chuckled. "They're just of lower priority than other things, like intel. Any hint of this in their berth?" he nodded towards the viewscreen where Jazz's spike was rubbing against the half dead mech and Prowl was rubbing his spike cover, watching with hungry optics.

"Not much," Radiance said, but he tilted his head back and gestured with his hand at his neck. "Saxo gets me by the neck when he's in a mood. Not anything else. But... they pretty much just need to look at each other to overload, this doesn't surprise me. Saxo comes off these pretty hot and Pantera likes whatever turns Saxo on." He winced at the location of Jazz's claws.

Whiplash laughed, bright with good humor. "They are hot on each other. If I'm ever that bad about someone, you have permission to shoot me." He grinned at Radiance, his visor actually flashing slightly despite the matte finish. "You're almost as bad on them, I think. Just waiting your time out until you can admit it?"

"I already have the courting forms completed," Radiance said, shaking his head, almost not believing what he was telling this mech. He gave a self-deprecating groan. "So yeah, I guess I am."

"More than forty vorns in advance?" Whiplash didn't hide his surprise. "Well, you _do_ have it bad. I have to admit, I thought all that fluffiness when you were playing creator and following Pantera around like a turbo-puppy while you were out here was rather cute."

"Oh, for Primus--you know what, no, I am not surprised you were watching that," Radiance said. "And I was _not_ following him around like a turbo-puppy."

"True, some of the time you were doing a good game of fetch or guard," Whiplash teased him. "It was adorable, Radiance. Made you very believable as their creator with him."

Radiance huffed again and rolled his optics. "Why am I here?" 

"Honestly?" Whiplash glanced sideways at him. "I was more than half expecting Pantera to need someone to pull him back together. Better to have you here than joors away if a break happens. You know as well as I do how unstable Saxo is without him."

Radiance's visor flickered, then he grinned. "Look at you with the spark! I honestly had my doubts," he turned back towards the viewscreen with a smug smirk on his lips. 

"Has nothing to do with a spark. It's protecting my assets," Whiplash huffed, but the grin he had took all the fight out of the words as they fell silent and watched Jazz rip the victim's chest plates the rest of the way off, only stopping when Prowl stepped up behind him and caressed the primary interface port with a kiss to Jazz's neck.

Jazz ground up against his lover, purring, tilting his head back as the port spiraled open. "You wanna feel this? This is what I'll do to _him_." 

Prowl plugged in with an intense rush of arousal that left them both dizzy to feel how worked up the other was. ~I want ... I want to feel _this_.~ He offered an image, something snagged from Vortex's archive, of one of their parties where a mech had a spike thrust into his spark, overload after overload, until he expired. ~Feel your spike in a living spark just before it leaves its frame.~

Jazz groaned, lowering the barely-living mech down with a thought, gripping the spark chamber in powerful combat claws and cracking it open. ~He would have had me do this to you,~ he said. ~Instead we'll do this to him. Just like this,~ he gasped, pushing forward, the intense surge of energy rushing up through his spike and into their joined frames. 

Prowl moaned and shuddered hard against Jazz's back, his lust soaring at the words. ~Oh yes. Just like this. His last act to give us pleasure. Oh _Primus_ that feels amazing.~

~It's a rush,~ Jazz agreed, panting and shaking in Prowl's hold as he rocked, both against his lover and into the swirling, flaring spark. ~This one's weak, he never had a strong will, it won't take long,~ he managed, hands coming up to grip Prowl's helm, head thrown back onto his lover's shoulder.

~Neither will we,~ Prowl gasped, his spike trapped between them as he rubbed along Jazz's back while they rocked into the fading spark. ~Oh, Jazz, feels so good, being with you for what works you up so much.~

~Prowl,~ Jazz moaned. ~Love that you can still love me like this. That shiver, the way the spark turns--it'll--it'll--~ The rest of the description was lost as the light spiraled inward on itself, collapsing from the center, before the full energy rushed out in a sudden, intense escape from the broken frame, leaving both of them screaming as Jazz overloaded into the brilliantly bright center and Prowl against his mate's back.

~Jazz, my beautiful Jazz,~ Prowl moaned as they struggled to keep from collapsing on the graying and cooling frame. ~Love all of you. Always have. Always will. Just want to be part of everything you let me.~

Jazz swayed, managed a step back for both of them, and turned, grabbing his mate in a kiss. ~You are my everything,~ he said, as they stumbled towards the wall, shaking and holding each other. 

In the observation room, Radiance was frozen and staring. "He just..."

"Got off by spiking a guttering spark," Whiplash said. "I have to admit, it's an extremely rare kink, and I've never seen it used by a pair like that. Whoever taught him that is a really, _really_ sick mecha."

Radiance was still frozen in shock when the door opened for Jazz to walk out of the interrogation room with Prowl behind them, each one of them focusing in on one of their observers. Prowl immediately looked to the one he didn't know that presented the greater threat, Jazz to the one he never expected to see this deep in a base, much less in an observation room. No one missed how Prowl subtly shifted to place himself between the unknown and his stunned mate despite his lack of status in this world and lifted his doorwings in a general warning display.

"You do give an amazing show together," Whiplash was the first to find his voice, greeting the energon smeared pair cheerfully, then focused on Prowl. "I'm Whiplash, his mentor in Ops."

A brush of fields to confirm this with Jazz and Prowl settled his wings, but still kept himself between Jazz and the potential threat.

"You've got a loyal one, Saxo," Whiplash chuckled, but the sub harmonics were of approval and even being impressed. "I'd tell you to reward, indulge and protect him, but I know you do."

Jazz finally found his voice and the rest of his frame, and took his optics off Radiance to shoot an accusing look at his trainer as he stepped forward enough to put his hands on Prowl, wanting the steady, calm strength that was his mate. "You didn't...warn me you were bringing him."

"It shouldn't have made a difference," Whiplash shrugged with a ripple of matte black armor. "He was here in case Pantera needed to be pulled together."

"I'm stronger than that," Prowl said flatly.

"Stronger, and far more twisted," Whiplash grinned with blatant approval. "Do the Enforcers know what they have in their ranks?"

Radiance found himself, last of the four, and shifted to be in front of Prowl. "They have a strong, devoted, fair-minded mech who would do anything for someone he loves," he said, then glanced back at Prowl with a faint smile. "By the way, hello."

A flicker of warmth and greeting came from Prowl's field, the tight-focused touch of one who was running on domestic conflict protocols. The mech's attention was locked on Whiplash, however.

"Relax, it's not like anything that happens on these levels even exists," Whiplash gave a smile to the triad, and this was a triad, recorded, bonded or otherwise. "But I don't think you'll be joining your mate in any more interrogations once this little event is dealt with."

Prowl simply nodded. It wasn't like he wanted to be here regularly no matter how hot it made Jazz run. He wasn't comfortable with it, with the rules that governed this place. They weren't his.

"Radiance, Pantera, go with Fairsong to the washrack and clean up," Whiplash ordered with a motion towards the door that opened to reveal a pastel blue, white and yellow femme. "I'll send Saxo along when we finish talking."

Radiance nodded, well-used to being escorted anywhere when he was below ground, and turned to leave, then paused when he was next to Jazz, leaning in to take a brief kiss. "And hello to you too," he said, smiling at him. 

Jazz didn't hide his startled flicker, or the relief that came after it. Radiance brushed his field warmly, then slipped his hand into Prowl's and gestured with his head towards the door. Prowl made no effort to resist, far too accustomed to obeying orders. His field began to relax as protocols stood down and he followed Radiance and their guide and watcher.

As soon as the door closed after their exit, Jazz faced his trainer, wings lowered, properly contrite before the only mech who had any kind of control over him beyond his mate. 

"You are making my orn _difficult_ , Jazz," Whiplash said flatly, glaring at his most junior agent. "Even I have to answer to the Prime if enough noise is made about my missions. You're under the radar for now, but the questions are going to come about why this is worthy of Imperial resources and there is no valid answer for it."

"The only Imperial resources I've used are myself, the room, and the cleanup it takes for one frame," Jazz said, steady. "If those are too much to find younglings taken into an illegal market--"

"You miss the point, agent," Whiplash shook his helm. "You are making a _very_ public display of this mission. Something we take some pains not to do for many reasons, but primarily one in a botnapping case. You've dramatically increased the odds of your creations' demise by increasing how easy it is for them to find out just what is on their trail. You have also used far more recourses than you think. Enforcers were pulled from other cases, called in to work extra shifts for your net, and while I doubt any of them would object to it given the younglings involved, the city is less pleased. It sees younglings go missing every decaorn. These two are no more valuable to it, or anyone important to the public than the last two."

Jazz winced through his field, but his frame held steady. "They are more valuable to Prowl, and their _best_ chance is to have their sire as involved as possible with all available information open to him. What I did also increases their chances of being found alive, as well as being killed, and both are preferable to the kind of market I suspect they will land in otherwise. I would have preferred keeping my own profile invisible, but they weren't going to let Prowl in otherwise." He paused, and bowed his head. "I'm sorry what I did created complications for you. I'm not sorry I acted to help my mate."

A deeply frustrated vent escaped Whiplash. "So I heard." He regarded his agent steadily. "If he'd been extended the professional courtesy he was no doubt expecting, you would have kept quiet?"

Jazz nodded once. "I was quiet until another Enforcer told him he wasn't allowed to help search for his own creations, dead or alive."

Whiplash shook his helm. "And there's no way you can miss _that_ mech being an Enforcer. If this hunt lasts long, I'm going to insist on an actual field agent being involved to smooth over the rookie mistakes. You weren't trained for this work."

"I'll back out from public view, except for interrogating anyone else they find. They respect Prowl enough now to let him in, now that they've seen him working," Jazz said, a faint, proud smile on his face. "And I'll stop scaring the locals."

"Do that," Whiplash huffed, privately annoyed at how easily Jazz could defuse anger directed at him. "Go clean up and take your mates somewhere else. I expect Radiance is going to need some contact after this."

Jazz nodded, started to leave, then paused. "You really brought him just in case Prowl needed him?"

"Mostly," Whiplash shrugged. "Wanted to make sure he could handle your function too, before you're any more triad than you already are."

"Thought so," Jazz said with a roll of his optics. "You couldn't have picked anything a bit milder? Eased him in?"

"He has interrogators on his team," Whiplash said. "He knows what you do. Well, maybe not the whole spark-spike overload bit, but it's not like I was expecting him to see anything that surprising. Prowl was the real surprise, not you."

Jazz smiled, optics brightening just at hear his mate's designation spoken out loud. "Didn't think he had that in him, did you," he said, pleased to have been able to surprise his mentor. 

"No, I didn't," Whiplash admitted with a scowl. "Now shoo, you. Your mates are expecting you."

Jazz grinned at his trainer and commander, gave a mock-salute, and bowed his way out, heading straight for the tracker that had been fixed to Prowl for the duration of his time underground, finding him with Radiance in a washrack three levels up. He greeted his mate with a warm kiss. "Your comms will work from this level, have you forwarded those designations to the commissioner?"

"Just did," Prowl rumbled and pulled Jazz closer, then stepped back under the spray to begin rinsing him off with another kiss. "He obviously wasn't _too_ angry with you."

Jazz nuzzled him, then reached out to Radiance and pulled the dark Enforcer in for his own greeting before turning back to Prowl. "He wasn't exactly pleased, either, but I do a great forgive-me grin. I'm pulling out except for further interrogation, though."

"Pantera's caught me up on what you know and it sounds like my arrival was at the right time," Radiance welcomed the settling influence of the pair's fields when they were together and went to work getting Jazz cleaned off. "It's been a while, but until I get the notice that I'm no longer on special assignment I'm here and I _have_ had investigative training and experience. And I'm much more accustomed to working with other precincts and cities as well."

Jazz hummed, leaning into Radiance's hands. "Good, because I'm starting to think they got out of Polyhex before we even got here. That glitch insisted he didn't see any of his fellows after they split inside the estate and I believe him. They're all going on a planetwide wanted list, but it'll have to be Enforcer level." He sighed, tilting his head back against Radiance's shoulder. "I'm sorry you saw that without knowing more about us. I would have preferred it the other way around." 

Radiance was quiet for a moment. "Whiplash said someone must have taught you that. You mentioned a 'him.' Sideswipe's spark sire?" he guessed, watching Prowl carefully.

"Yes," Prowl answered, tense but not in the dangerous way. His focus was on Jazz.

Jazz smiled reassuringly at his mate for a moment, before flaring his field to mix with Radiance's while Prowl held him, a strong, steady, reassuring presence that had long been the one constant in Jazz's existence. "That was his favorite way to finish a toy. After his newspark took...he told me he wanted to do the same to it. I..." He hesitated, and Radiance nuzzled against his neck. "I learned how to enjoy what he enjoyed. I'm glad you can still touch me after seeing that," he admitted quietly.

"I admit I could have gone my entire existence without _seeing_ that," Radiance murmured, slowly stroking his hands along Jazz's frame. "But I know you both well enough to be confident that you won't bring the illegal kinks out of this place. That's all I expect."

"Until we have _him_ , he's the exception," Jazz said. 

"I can look the other way for _him_ ," Radiance assured them both. Any mecha that took enough enjoyment in snuff to be so creative about it and teach a mechling to do the same was a mecha that was well worth looking the other way for to ensure he never saw the inside of a courtroom. He might not like that truth, but he understood politics enough to believe it was a necessary evil in a broken world.

Jazz nodded with that assurance, then wrapped his arms around Prowl and drew their frames tight. "I'm so sorry, love, I hoped that one would know more." 

"We do our best with what we have," Prowl said gently, holding Jazz to comfort him while Radiance continued to stroke Jazz's frame, then moved on to soothing touches to his doorwings. 

Jazz hummed in gratitude. "We are nowhere near done with this," he promised his mate, as Radiance rumbled his agreement behind them.

* * *

Jazz shook the mess of energon, wires, and fiber-optics from his hand after pulling his fingers from the holes where the graying mech's optics had once been, and pulled his other hand, gripping an energon dagger, from the now-empty spark chamber. He stepped back, rolled his head, and tried to stretch some of the tension from his frame as he walked, heading up the several levels needed in order to comm his mate without routing through the facility comm network.

He was in the Kalis facility, one of the gangsters being located there after an ID ping on a speeder turned up a matching designation. This one had been among the group that had taken the younglings from the estate and had witnessed the killing of the third.

::Pantera,:: he commed, lifting his arms over his head to stretch his shoulders, getting sideways looks from the few mecha he passed by, not for the mess he was covered in but for being an unfamiliar face in their part of this realm. 

::Anything useful?:: Prowl couldn't hold back the hope that was bordering on desperate. Eight orns they'd been on the hunt and there were already some polite calls about getting back to their jobs. And more concerned, private ones from many of the same mecha asking if there was anything but time they could offer.

::Location of the buyer as of six orns ago. Simfur. Did a blind swap with them for the credits, never saw his face or knew a designation. He would have been happy to give more if he had it, too, they tried to double the price for the temperament and quality and got less than the original price for their trouble.:: Jazz turned the washrack on. ::I'll be above as soon as I'm decent and we'll get to Simfur.::

::Meet up at the hotel, whoever's there first packs up?:: Prowl suggested. ::Windcrest can meet us in the shuttle bay.::

Jazz nodded and sent an affirmative ping. ::Is Radiance with you?::

::I'll comm him,:: Prowl promised. ::Clean up, and we'll see you soon.::

Jazz agreed and washed as quickly as he could, but he it still took him longer than he liked to get the grime off his frame, and he didn't even fully detail between the plating. He only did enough to be presentable in public and not get pulled over as a potential murderer. When he was finally back to the hotel, Prowl and Radiance were already there, everything packed and ready, just waiting until they could go meet their shuttle. 

His lovers were sitting together on the berth, talking softly, though the moment Jazz walked in Prowl stood to greet him. Jazz quickly pulled Prowl into a kiss that was returned fiercely with a strong embrace, then touched their helms together. "How are you?"

"Well enough," Prowl murmured. "There's time to settle you and get you cleaned up before he gets here. It's a long flight from Iacon."

"I'm fine," Jazz said, though the lingering arousal in his field was clear enough. "If you're working on something we should keep doing that." 

"Just reviewing things we already know," Prowl assured him, guiding Jazz towards the washrack in the room. "Just me, or both?" he asked softly enough that only Jazz heard him.

Jazz's gaze flickered over his mate's shoulder towards Radiance, who was watching from his seat on the berth, waiting with an anxious tilt to his doorwings to be invited before he joined the pair. He lifted his hand, gesturing him over, knowing the peace his mate took in the three of them being together. "Both of you," he murmured, nuzzling.

Prowl purred and flicked a doorwing in invitation before he got Jazz in the washrack. "So, what do you think of actually playing out that scene we talked through on our first break?"

Jazz's engines gave a hard rev. "I don't think we have the time or myself the patience be teased up, but if you wanna skip that part, I'd be agreeable," Jazz said as he was backed up into the solvent. 

Radiance appeared behind Prowl, pressing against his back and nipping at his neck while running hands down to his hips, then around front. "You want to take him with me?"

"Or for both of you to take me," Prowl's entire frame shivered at the prospect. "Yes. Maybe not the teasing, but to feel your spike rub against mine inside him," he could only moan at the intensity of the mental image it conjured.

Radiance's engines rumbled deeply and he met Jazz's optics over Prowl's shoulder, exchanging a smile of agreement with him before he dipped his head back down to nip up along their lover's neck, jaw, and then to his audial. "When we take him together, we're going to take our time, and he's going to be begging for us. We're going to tease him until he explodes. But _you_..." He and Jazz pressed hips flush against Prowl. "We'll fill you, make you forget everything while we hold you."

"Please," Prowl moaned, leaning into Radiance with the mixture of excitement and passive acceptance that rarely came to those who didn't have a submissive spark.

Jazz hummed and leaned in for a deep kiss, his hands sliding down to join Radiance's on Prowl's pelvis, teasing and stroking around his spike cover while the black fingers dipped down to his valve. "I'm going to swallow you first," he murmured against Prowl's mouth. "I know how much you like my lips around your spike, looking down and seeing me on my knees for you."

Prowl nearly choked, both panels snapping open. One arm reached back, over his shoulder, to grip at Radiance's back. The other found Jazz's neck and held the kiss until they were all trembling from the raw, unfiltered lust pouring off Prowl.

"Lover, oh lover," Radiance moaned, shuddering, spike extended and pressed against Prowl's aft. He teased at Prowl's valve, swirling his fingers through the platelets, while Jazz rubbed the spike that had pressurized into his fingers. "Suck him," he commanded Jazz, voice hoarse. "He wants you so badly."

"I can feel it," Jazz purred, and slid down to his knees, running a long, hot lick up the underside of his lover's spike, flicking his glossa off the tip. "He's always wanted me, haven't you, my love."

"Yes," Prowl keened at the physical sensations and spread his legs further apart, leaning forward a bit to cant his hips and give Radiance better access. As amazing as it felt, it was really the way being _between_ two lovers made his spark swell that made this so good for him. He could feel it pouring off Radiance as well, the _rightness_ of a triad forming, the way the three of them moved so easily together, no one giving more than they got. Every indulgence given to one member was matched with an indulgence to the others. "Knew as soon as I saw you I was in trouble, that I'd do anything for you."

Jazz hummed with honest joy at those memories, circling his lips around the head and pushing down, using the sound to vibrate into Prowl through the sensor-laden metal. He slid one hand up the inside of Prowl's thigh and met Radiance's fingers with his own, slipping them into the slick opening while the dark mech clicked the magnet systems in his palm to life, rubbing over quivering platelets as his own fingers pushed in alongside Jazz's. 

"A taste, lover," Radiance purred to him. "Both of us in you, but we'll give you so much more than this."

Prowl could only arch back, his entire frame already quivering and mouth open against the bliss. His valve spasmed, cycling tightly around the fingers inside him with the entirety of his internal systems trying to assist the motion, even though they weren't part of his valve structure. It was like this every time one of them was between the other two, each time the intensity increased for Prowl as his triad protocols etched themselves further into his norm.

He _wanted_.

Prowl wanted to be lost in this bliss of being in the middle of a triad more than he could have imagined. The explicit approval of his love for the lover they'd brought in made his spark soar. Oh, to be filled with them both, to be touched and pleasured by them both at once, it was so much more than Prowl ever imagined interfacing to be.

He adored and reveled in them both for this gift of being triad.

Radiance felt it, felt all of it through Prowl's field and in the mirrored song in his own spark and the ancient coding bliss in his processors that was working just as hard as Prowl's were to form this union for all of them. Coding that he was realizing had picked these two for him even before he'd realized it, pushing him towards them over and over until he'd looked up one orn and found himself completely captivated and owned. He wanted as much as Prowl, as much as he dared to hope Jazz did, wanted to pleasure and be pleasured. 

"Good, this is perfect, sink into it, into _us_ ," he managed. "The bliss of triad." His voice shook on the last word, one he hadn't dared to hope for for so long. He looked down at Jazz over Prowl's shoulder, the slow bobbing of his head along Prowl's valve while he crooked his fingers deeper. "Look at him, look at the joy he takes out of pleasuring you with me."

"He loves to," Prowl shuddered, completely lost to the intensity as his frame, processors and spark all agreed that this was _perfect_. "I can feel how much he loves it, just as much as I love pleasuring him. Sooo goood...." he keened and trembled, trying not to overload, trying to draw this perfection out. He wanted them inside him, fully and completely inside him, frame, spark and all, so badly it ached.

He could feel Jazz's full-framed rumble of arousal and the sound of his lover's spike cover sliding away. The warmth around his own spike tightened for a moment and then moved away while Jazz twined his fingers around Radiance's, pushing together. "Ready?" he purred, head tilted up, and behind him Radiance hummed in deep, eager excitement. Without another word exchanged Prowl not only relaxed into Radiance's steady, strong grip, but moved with Jazz when his love stood and brought one of Prowl's legs up with him. The other set more firmly, angled for balance, then slid back to twine with Radiance's leg when Prowl was lifted and positioned so both his lovers could penetrate him.

"Yes," Prowl whispered, even more awed at how _right_ this felt than how good it felt already.

Jazz pressed a searing kiss to his mouth. "I love you," he moaned, lining his spike up and pushing in, then held there as Radiance rubbed the tip of his own against their joined frames and ran his magnetized palm over Prowl's aft. 

"Relax," Radiance breathed. "Relax and open and _feel_." He dipped and lifted his hips, pushing in alongside Jazz, moving slowly into the impossibly tight channel. " _Oh_ ," he gasped, shuddering.

Prowl simply keened, his limbs gripping his lovers blindly. It hurt, that much stretch. Nothing prepared a mech for it but experience, and Prowl simply didn't have that. But he relaxed, he trusted his lovers to bear his weight and gave himself over to feeling what it meant to truly be between two lovers at once, to be the focus of his triad. The stretch hurt as he adjusted, but it also felt amazingly good.

This was what his spark had always called for, what was coded into him from before his sparkline was grounded, and there was nothing that could make it be anything other than pure bliss.

Jazz moaned as Radiance finally seated himself and they held together, trembling, letting Prowl's frame learn to accommodate, until he couldn't stand the stillness anymore and pulled out, barely a fraction of the entire length, and all three of them gasped together. Radiance shifted his hips out in response, and they found a slow, uneven rhythm of pushing and pulling, sliding alongside each other, their arms around Prowl, holding, supporting, caressing every span of his frame that they could reach. 

The pure _rightness_ of this thrumming through Prowl and Radiance enveloped Jazz, fueling his pleasure. He knew this perfection, this fulfillment of being true to your very core coding, and he was willing to do anything to give this to Prowl. He couldn't begin to count his blessings that what his love wanted so much was something, someone, that felt so good to him as well. Someone who had seen him at almost his darkest, and still greeted him with a kiss. Someone Jazz was sure he had learned how to love in that moment. 

A sudden keening shudder and wordless garble were all the warning Prowl could offer beyond his field and the riot of energy dancing through his frame before he found himself right on the edge of overload. One more thrust by Jazz and he toppled over, screaming in bliss and seizing between his lovers. His valve tightened, molding to every bit of those wonderful spikes inside him, fluttering and undulating as the charge was fed to them though the lubricant and contact.

Radiance cried out and lost the hold he had on his control, as overcome as Prowl was by this bliss and the overwhelming joy of being accepted and wanted-- _desired_ \--by this pair he'd all but stumbled over, never expecting what he'd been about to fall into, and when he felt Jazz's overload triggered by his own and the feel of another's transfluid mixing with his own, slicking their spikes, he _sobbed_. 

" _Pantera_ ," Jazz cried, face against Prowl's shoulder, biting as he shuddered, fingers digging into his frame. " _Radiance!_ " 

Radiance _shook_ , shouting as the running charge of three frames washed back through to him in a moment of white-out ecstasy before it fed back into Prowl from both sides and drove him to a second peak almost as intense as the first.

Eventually the trembling mecha sank to their knees, two still supporting the third, until they leaned inward, using Prowl's frame to brace their exhausted ones.

"Saxo, Radiance," Prowl slurred, only partially coherent and oblivious to everything but the utter, perfect, contentment that was being with his triad. "Love you both." Forbidden words, too-soon words, but the _right_ words. "So perfect. So very perfect."

Radiance actually gasped at the force those words had on his spark, his grip around Prowl tightening almost painfully as he looked with some shock into Jazz's optics. The younger mech looked warmly back, then shifted his gaze to Prowl briefly, instructing. 

Radiance took Prowl's helm in his hands and leaned forward, tilting around to take Prowl's mouth in a desperate kiss. "I love you too," he managed. "I've--I've loved you, both of you, I know it's fast and I shouldn't even say so yet, but..." 

A soft, brushing kiss from Jazz caused him to trail off and turn his head, only to be pulled into a deeper one. "We love you too," Jazz said, touching helm to helm. "We have. Once this is all over and settled, we'll do this better, properly."

"Explain it all?" Prowl looked at his mate blearily, only slowly regaining his full awareness as their spikes slid from his valve and he settled more on his own forelegs. "Legal ... not for vorns, but he can be ours?" The last bit came out as more plea than question.

"I think he has been ours, my love," Jazz murmured, drawing Prowl in, pressing their mouths together. "I know he wants to be, and I know you want him, and..." Optics flickered over to the golden visor set in the dark face. His voice lowered, his engines purred. "I want him too." 

Prowl's couldn't have overstated how much that that mattered to him as he claimed another kiss, his frame trembling and doorwings all but vibrating when he turned to claim the same kiss from Radiance. "Soon, we are triad. In our home," he glanced at Jazz, who nodded. "In our home it will be _our_ home."

Jazz nipped at Prowl's neck as Radiance drew into another searing embrace. "You bought it for three," he murmured. "To make a home for three." 

Prowl simply nodded. "It was on hope."

Jazz smiled and looked to Radiance, hesitated, then put a finger under the dark mech's chin and drew him in. "Thank you, for everything you've done for him. Don't think I don't see the way he is when he comes home from Polyhex, don't think I didn't see the change when you went with him. How could I not love someone who can lift so much from him?" 

"I do all I can for those I love," Radiance answered the only way he could, but warmed at the way Prowl leaned into him and wrapped his field around them in an embrace. "It is what triads do. We support each other in any way we can."

"We wanted to tell you everything before it got this far," Prowl murmured, nuzzling into Jazz. "We will soon," he promised. "We should get clean, though. Windcrest will be here soon."

Jazz nodded, and sighed as the bliss faded away in the wake of the reality they were dealing with. "Come on," he said, and he and Radiance helped pull their mate to his pedes. "Hope that helped, it might be the last for a while, this could get worse from here out."

"Thank you," Prowl kissed Jazz, then turned to kiss Radiance. "Both of you."

It was the last word spoken as the three got down to the business of cleaning up, all with an efficiency they had learned in different ways, but methods that meshed well and created an easy, smooth flow between them. 

* * *

It only took Jazz three orns to realize that their quarry had already escaped them, and without leaving a trail. Simfur was a neutral location for a buyer who was already good enough to not give his hunters a designation or ever let him see his frame. It was a dummy location, one that could be safely given up without threatening him. 

When consulted privately, Radiance agreed. Which left them with the unpleasant task of breaking the news to Prowl, who was not anywhere near ready to admit defeat.

"How do we tell him?" Jazz asked, hand to his forehelm, leaning against the outside wall of their hotel.

"Coax him somewhere reasonably safe, probably the room," Radiance glanced up towards their room here in Simfur. "Relax him." He hesitated here. "Not to challenge your ways, but 'facing might not be the best way this time. Hardline? Let him see for himself why we're saying the active hunt is over."

Jazz held both hands up over his face and slid down. "'Face him before telling him his creations are lost into a market that will probably destroy them," he muttered, shaking his head. "No." His vents shuddered at the thought of how much pain he was going to have to cause his mate. "Hardline is best. Hardline is...it's safety, for us. Anywhere with a locked door. Primus," he whispered, then looked up at his lover, silently pleading for answer that Radiance didn't have.

Instead of words, Radiance gave the only thing he could. He stepped over, knelt, and gathered Jazz into his arms. He made no attempt to tell him everything would be alright, no attempt to make the situation look any better than it was. He just held, and soothed, and gently stroked doorwings with one hand while offering his field and his frame for Jazz to take comfort from.

They sat there huddled in silence for a while, and slowly a thought crossed Radiance's processor and he nuzzled Jazz's chevron. "You said hardline is safety. We can go to the room, hardline. If it could help you settle ... and, well, there are protocols, reflexive, basic things that come with being Praxian. How to talk to a third when two agree and they won't. Ways to stand, to talk, to present it that will make him more likely to accept without fighting. I can show you, even transfer some of those protocols if you want them."

"Protocols he has," Jazz said, and sighed, then nodded. "Anything that's going to make this easier. He doesn't give up. He probably _won't_ give up, not completely, even once we're home." He pulled Radiance tight for a moment, then they rose together. "It won't hurt anything to give him a few more joors of hope." 

"I'm going giving up either," Radiance said firmly. "Not until we've found them." He rested his forehelm against Jazz's gently. "No, a few more joors won't hurt, but tonight. We must tell him tonight no matter how much it hurts." He paused, stroking Jazz's doorwings in a soothing way. "In the meantime, it won't hurt to focus on helping you accept and begin to recover."

Jazz's gaze flickered. "I'm not...going to grieve for them," he said, as blunt as he could manage in front of someone that he knew would. "I've never missed them."

"But you are already grieving for the pain this is going to cause Pantera," Radiance said gently, guiding Jazz inside.

"I grieve for anything that causes him pain," Jazz murmured, doing nothing to resist. "Everything he's survived...he doesn't _deserve_ this, it's not--" He cut himself off quickly. They all knew their world wasn't fair, saying it did nothing. "He should have had better than this." 

"So should you," Radiance said too firmly to argue with as they entered the lift to the floor their room was on.

Jazz tossed him a wry smile. "I got what I was created for, he didn't. Though...I sometimes wonder if my creators had known..." He shook his head, glanced at the progress of the lift, and ran his fingers up Radiance's arm, over his shoulder, and traced up his neck. "Come here."

Radiance gave a small, sad smile and leaned in, pressing their mouths together, willing to offer whatever comfort his love needed.

Jazz shivered and pulled him flush. "'S getting harder not to give things away to you," he murmured, smiling faintly. The lift stopped on their level and the door opened for them to exit together, making the short walk down to their room. 

"I think that means I'm doing it right," Radiance smiled, sneaking another kiss as the door opened for them. "It should be difficult to keep secrets from your mates."

Jazz hummed, backing towards the single berth and bringing Radiance with him. "Since I find myself not wanting to keep secrets from you, definitely." His legs hit the berth and he pulled the dark mech against him, pressing a soft kiss. "All I ask is that if you can't...reconcile, with what we tell you, you give us time to get away and you don't come looking."

"I have difficulty imagining that situation," Radiance murmured between kisses, easily shifting into the more amorous mood his mate was displaying. "You have my word, for what little it would matter from a dead mech."

Jazz gave him a knowing smile, sitting, and then laying back on the berth, pulling Radiance with. "I would try to convince him not to kill you, but I don't know how successful I'd be. Better for everyone if that never happens."

"Agreed," Radiance continued to kiss him, his hands playing the familiar frame expertly, matching the desires of the field against his. "Anything worse than the snuff I've already seen?"

Jazz caught his hands, stopping them, until Radiance lifted his head to look down at his lover, whose field had gone from warm and inviting to cold and serious in a single sparkpulse. "Yes," Jazz said, looking right into his visor. "Do you want to know what?"

"If you are willing to tell me now, yes," Radiance was just as serious just as fast. "I understand the risks of doing so if I am wrong. Pantera will need the support right now, not another loss."

"Willing to tell you, not willing to risk what Pantera needs," Jazz said, and let go of the wrists, field relaxing again. "He'll need someone who can grieve them with him. He loves them, he wanted them so badly, I-- _I_ wanted them, it all just..."

"You're a good mate," Radiance kissed him gently. "As hard as it is for you to imagine, you are not the first to be unable to bond to your creation because of the conditions of kindling. It is a terrible thing, it rips families apart, but you are not the first and you will not be the last." He kissed Jazz again, gentle and chaste. "Remember that I am here for you, too. You were the one that first caught my attention. I would help you grieve what is hurting you as well."

Jazz dimmed his optics, pulling the kiss deeper for a long klik. "Forever ago," he murmured. "When you helped me recharge, when you didn't take advantage... _Radiance,_ " he moaned as the knowing fingers dipped and stroked.

"I don't take advantage, lovely," Radiance said quietly, kissing his way down Jazz's neck. "It broke my spark that one as young as you would feel the need to ask a friend not to. I wasn't going to abandon you after that." 

"Glad you didn't," Jazz said, gasping when the teasing mouth ghosted over his chest, not a request, but an erotic suggestion of more later to come. "Needed that more than I realized."

"I'm glad I could be there for you," Radiance murmured as his mouth trailed along a hip joint towards Jazz's interface covers. "I'm glad you accepted my offer."

"So am I, so are _we_ ," Jazz said, relaxing fully. "Something about you--" His hips pushed into the warm touch that was heating his entire frame with barely any effort. "Suddenly can't imagine not having you. Want you," he moaned, legs spreading.

Radiance purred. "My spike, my mouth, my valve....?"

"Everything," Jazz laughed breathlessly, then pushed himself up on an elbow and reached down with the other hand to stroke over Radiance's helm. "Your spike," he murmured. "Right now...your spike and your cable."

Radiance smiled and shifted to kiss Jazz, gently but thoroughly. "Anything you desire, my love." He shivered. "You have no idea how _good_ it feels to be allowed to say that, even if only in private." He slid his spike cover back and unspooled a thick interfacing cable. "I'm all yours."

Jazz shivered, valve and dataport both open in the next moment. He drew an intake, settled himself, and pulled his knees back, lifting his hips. " _Please,_ " he whispered. "Don't be gentle. Make me forget what I'm about to do."

There was a fraction of a hesitation before Radiance nodded and plugged in. ~Just try to shield me from it.~

With a shiver, Radiance centered himself and drove his spike into the willing form in a single, hard thrust. He braced himself over his lover with one hand and allowed the other to caress over Jazz's frame as he began to drive, deep and hard. Far rougher than he ever was with Prowl, or any other lover.

~Any ... what works best?~ he asked a bit uneasily

Jazz caressed him over the hardline, calming from the rough use alone. He tilted his head back, offered an image of his throat with fingers closed around it. ~Not gonna make you draw energon, love,~ he moaned. ~Unless you feel like it. Just need to feel pinned and used.~

Radiance nodded and leaned in to kiss him. As he pulled back he put more of his weight on their hips in order to free his hands, one of them catching Jazz's wrists and moving quickly to bind him with a pair of cuffs. That done, he levered much of his forward mass onto a hand that closed around Jazz's throat.

Jazz could feel through the hardline that this did nothing for Radiance, and that his lover was carefully monitoring his status, but with the next brutally hard drive of Radiance's hips against the lock of the hand pinning him down, a wave of peace washed through him. 

~Thank you,~ he gasped, ~For letting me be selfish, for doing this, I know you don't, you don't...~ His valve tightened, quivered, he moaned, pushing back into the thrusts, arms stretched up, fingers clenching around nothing. ~I promise when I'm stronger than tonight, I swear--nnh, won't make you.~

~Part of being triad is giving what is needed,~ Radiance groaned at the pleasure from his spike and what was flowing through the hardline. ~I do things for you. You do things for me. We do things for Pantera. He does things for us.~ He punctuated each statement with a hard, driving thrust that shook Jazz's entire frame. ~Tell me, what does this, the pain, the _use_ , give you?~

~Calm,~ Jazz managed. ~ _Peace_. Grounding.~ He tried, as best as he could, to show the way the abuse of his frame could sooth the shattered feeling in his spark, endless layers of guilt for things he _knew_ he wasn't to blame for, but he couldn't stop himself from _feeling_. 

His glitch that he wasn't strong enough to stop. 

Not being able to grieve with Prowl. 

Older, deeper sins that were still shielded, but ones that _hurt_ to remember. 

A carrier's frame, a designation, _Skywatch._

Giving up. Leaving the younglings to their fates. Telling Prowl it was time to stop. 

~They stop hurting,~ Jazz whispered, frame slack and unresisting. ~When I give up, when I stop fighting the logic and just let them hurt, I can let myself pay, and it stops.~

Radiance shuddered at the hints he was getting, shocked to his core that a mech so very young could have so much guilt built up already. ~I'll give you what I can,~ he promised. His free hand came between them and felt around Jazz's undercarriage before finding what he was looking for and pressed a single finger, pinching a cable against a support bar.

 _Pain_ ripped through Jazz, enough to leave him dizzy and unfocused, followed swiftly by an overwhelming explosion of bliss and the subsequent emotional ecstasy that he pushed through the hardline while simultaneously blocking the pain, trying to reward Radiance for the action as much as he was able.

~ _Thank you!_ ~ he cried, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent, agonized scream. 

Skilled fingers moved to another pinch point that created a riot of sensory-scrambling _pain_ as Radiance went through incapacitation strikes designed to disable without damaging. The flood of pleasure from Jazz was intoxicating, crashing through him when he wasn't expecting it and driving his charge to the brink of overload, and it took all his strength to hold out, to wait for as long as he could, or until Jazz had what he needed.

He was starting to doubt his own capacity to keep going, with the bursts of ecstasy that were coming over to him with every strike, when something in Jazz's field shifted, settled, _clicked_ , and his lover arched his back, bringing his cuffed hands forward to wrap around Radiance's neck, tugging, pulling him up into a heated, desperate kiss. ~Stop hurting,~ he moaned, everything about him _joyful_ , and his next shout was nothing but pleasure from the hard slide of the spike in him.

Radiance gratefully let go and slid his now free hand down Jazz's frame to stroke and please while the hand that had been on Jazz's neck shifted to supporting him. He couldn't even form warning words when his next thrust was an explosion of sensation that threw his helm back with a roar of pure ecstasy.

Jazz seized beneath him almost instantly, hips lifting from the berth as his voice joined his lover's, drowning out everything else as they shook together before the charge dissipated into the air around them with a final loud _crack_ of static. 

They slumped in unison, panting and strutless, and Jazz gave a hard shiver, cuffed arms wrapped around Radiance and holding him tightly. ~Love you, thank you, love you,~ he murmured, dazed. 

~Love you, glad to help,~ Radiance said honestly, nuzzling Jazz. ~Hands?~

Blearily, Jazz brought them up and around to where Radiance could reach them, and settled them on his lover's helm once they were free. 

Peace, calm, _certainty_ that what they were doing was the right thing, and the strength to do it. Jazz pushed all of that across the hardline, the faint charge that came with any data transfer over the interfacing connection making Radiance shiver. 

~That's what it does for me,~ he said.

~Thank you for sharing that, my love, my lovely Saxo,~ Radiance murmured, awed and slightly bewildered at how pain could settle a mech like that, but without a single trace of doubt that it did work for Saxo. ~Thank you for trusting me with this, with helping you.~ He murmured and kissed Jazz softly. ~Dataline?~

Jazz nodded, somewhat regretfully, but they were here for a reason. He helped Radiance make the cable exchange, tucking Radiance's gently back into his chest before hooking up the hard dataline, carefully lowering firewalls for the dark mech. ~You said there are protocols that can help.~

~Yes. Unlike Seekers who are driven to form trines or risk destabilizing, it's only something Praxians _like_. I know you felt it in the shower, how Pantera and I responded to it,~ he murmured, offering a rather sizable datapack to Jazz. ~We're going to be one of those triads that confuses everyone, because we so smoothly shift who's dominant.~

~That isn't normally the case?~ Jazz questioned as he skimmed through the files as they downloaded. It would take a sizable installation and reboot that they didn't have time for in order to integrate them all before they needed to go talk to Prowl, so he looked to the ones that Radiance had tagged as priority. ~Most have more set roles?~

~Trines always do. No functional trine does not have an Order to lead and hunt, a Vision to think and carry, and an Action to guard them both.~ Radiance transmitted glyphs nearly as old as Seeker kind, every one of them entwined with a respect that was beyond conscious thought. This was simply part of the _Truth_ that allowed society to continue. ~Praxians, and Seeker-kin Aerials to a lesser extent, have inherited the desire to trine, but less of the need to have specific roles for each member.~

Jazz smiled faintly. ~Pantera could be all three of those,~ he said. He watched the scrolling lines of code go by on his HUD, reading protocols that would install properly as soon as he did a hard reboot. The most important protocol, how to address a third without making him feel ganged up on, pressured, or patronized, looked to be a complex mix of position, wing language, tone, even the length of time each member was allowed to spend talking. Even some words and glyphs had notes about usage, both to avoid or to use.

From the view of his noble upbringing and coding, he recognized it in another way. A social ritual, much like how an energon sampling was served. There were signals that broadcast a lack of threat, some that offered comfort, others that reminded everyone of the ties that bound them. It could be intensely stressful to perform such an intimate social dance, but Jazz had also literally been created to do just that. These were different rules, but it was something that spoke to his spark.

Ritual was a good thing, for both him and Prowl, even if they had been designed to perform in different worlds.

He nodded as the last of the script scrolled by. ~This will integrate well with my coding,~ he said, pleased by the finesse and social structure he was seeing. ~The framework that remains of my function is well suited to it.~

~Good,~ Radiance gave a relieved x-vent. ~Nothing there is critical, it's not like a trine where stepping out of place will cause a problem or result in violence. For us, it's more a comfort most don't even recognize consciously, but we do feel it.~ He stroked Jazz's face gently, kissing him between touches. ~You are an amazing mate, Saxo. Truly amazing. I will guard you as you reboot,~ he promised.

~Action,~ Jazz said, enjoying the sound of the new glyph as applied to the dark mech that was draped over him. He took one last kiss, then dropped offline in a final act to make what had to happen as easy on Prowl as they could.

* * *

Radiance paused outside the door to the Simfur Enforcer's central datanet and looked at the Praxian mech next to him. Jazz might not have been created Praxian, but he had the frame and some of the coding now, along with the legal citizenship. As far as anyone would ever be concerned, that made him fully so. Radiance couldn't deny that it felt amazingly good to have two Praxians in his potential triad.

"Ready?" he asked, settling his armor and his spark. This wasn't the first time he'd given news that a creation was gone, but it was the closest he'd even been to the mecha receiving the news.

Jazz nodded once and palmed the door open, using the temporary codes that Simfur's commissioner had given them instead of the Imperial override codes that would get Whiplash on his back. They entered together, finding Prowl sitting perfectly still, optics dimmed, the majority of his attention and energy focused on the single task of crawling the surveillance systems and everything else he could monitor to look for the mech who had taken his younglings, or any hint of the youngling fighting pit players that were known.

"Pantera," Jazz trilled quietly to pull him from his monitoring, while Radiance went to him, settling hands on his shoulders, rubbing. They both noticed how Prowl pressed into the touch with a low sound of pleasure even before his optics brightened or his field did more than recognize them.

"Come take a break with us," Radiance said. "We miss you."

Prowl shivered and pressed himself more firmly into Radiance touch as he reached out for Jazz, drawing him into his lap. The next brush of Prowl's field told them he _knew_ what they were really here for, and he was grateful for the effort to comfort him before forcing him to admit what he couldn't stand to think.

Jazz brushed their helms together, hands framing Prowl's face as he and Radiance reached out with their fields, twining all three together, familiar and reassuring that they were here, they would always be here. 

"When was the last time you fueled or stretched?" Jazz asked, fighting down the reflexive arousal at the position and warmth of Prowl's arms around him.

"Fuel, six joors. Moved, not since you were here." Prowl murmured, relaxing into the contact for a moment, willing to simply be with his mates and relish the closeness.

"Then come stretch your frame and get a snack," Radiance nuzzled him, fingers easily finding the tensest cables and rubbing them to relax Prowl a bit. "You aren't built for this. Not anymore."

Prowl couldn't even muster the care that Radiance had mentioned his rebuild. It wasn't a secret anymore, not really. Not even that it had happened twice.

They led him out of the precinct and the short drive away to a small cafe, one not very far away at all from the apartment Jazz and Prowl had lived in for their short stay in Simfur that Jazz remembered, but had never been to. 

Small, minimally decorated, designed to appeal to working class mecha with low prices and simple, efficient fuels on offer, with enough room to comfortably seat three without brushing fields with anyone else if you were careful. They ordered a plate of simple treats that barely had enough energy in them to be called fuel, but none of them needed the energon, and they all knew this was part of a careful process. From the sympathetic look the server gave them, he understood too, at least that they were trying to cheer up.

"Being here makes me appreciate Praxus all the more," Jazz said, smiling faintly as they found a table in the corner and snuggled Prowl between them. "This is the city where I danced for weapons dealers," he added for Radiance. They didn't have to be so careful now, when Radiance would know everything before they returned to work.

"It wasn't a bad time," Prowl murmured between nibbles of a confection with a nearly painfully acidic center that was far more favored here than in Praxus. "But it's difficult to find anywhere bad when you can find work you like. I'm still glad we left. Praxus gave us so much more than I ever imagined possible," he smiled weakly and leaned into Radiance a bit.

Radiance wrapped an arm around him and kissed the top of his helm. "I'm glad you left, too." He grinned at Jazz. "Any of them make an unwanted pass at you that I can arrest them for?" 

Jazz cocked his head and grinned back. "Nah, having a growly mate around dissuaded them," he said, trying to keep conversation light for now. He slipped his fingers around Prowl's. "Praxus is better. Praxus brought us so much more. And got you a sexy paint job."

Prowl actually chuckled and turned his helm to kiss Jazz, soft and chaste, but it still gave Jazz a hint of the acid that his mate enjoyed so much in his 'sweets'. "It got you a very sexy new look too," he purred with a low rumble. "You always look good, but I do love the doorwings."

Jazz grinned, shifting close enough so their legs were pressed flush together and lifted one of the treats to Prowl's mouth while Radiance moved his hand to the back of Prowl's neck, rubbing. "I love his doorwings, too," Radiance agreed, as Jazz slipped his mate a gentle kiss as soon as the treat was gone. "And yours. But I'm obviously biased towards Praxian form," he chuckled. 

Jazz hummed in agreement. "The first mech I ever wanted was Praxian," he said. "After my mechling upgrades, I couldn't figure out what the big deal about the interfacing protocols was until I turned a corner and he was standing there." He grinned at Radiance. "Turned everything on." 

"Love at first sight," Radiance smiled warmly even as he had to devote a significant portion of his energy in that moment to shutting off the connection-making protocols and keeping them off.

"Quite mutual love at first sight," Prowl admitted, his engine actually beginning to purr at the public attention that was still nearly four decades away from being at all acceptable in Praxus, and at this level would need to wait for at least another couple centuries. "I was lost long before he had a clue what it meant."

Jazz nuzzled his mate and fed him another treat, shifting his gaze to Radiance for the few moments Prowl was focused entirely on that. That single statement, while still not giving much away, suggested enough to easily give away a huge part of their public lie.

Radiance, out of Prowl's line of sight, nodded once. He wasn't chasing down the obvious conclusions to be taken from that, but some came too quickly. They couldn't have met in a single carrier's group. They had known each other much, much longer. The trauma they both referenced at times, each separately, might have been the same. It was nothing he didn't already suspect, at least in part, in the back of his processor. He cared about them far too much not to pay attention to every detail even if he carefully didn't follow the trail to complex conclusions.

Just that was more than enough to have once set Prowl into a desperate panic to hide and erase the truth, but he was relaxed, if not calm. Jazz had said once the search was over they would bring Radiance into their union properly. Prowl had agreed and promised to tell him everything at that time. 

More than knowing what they were here to tell him, Prowl knew the search was over. 

Jazz made a joke about how typical it was for Prowl to fall for someone who needed a lot of work and patience, Radiance chuckled, and they relaxed together until the plate was empty. 

Radiance gave Jazz another nod, and the youngest of their triad focused on Prowl. "Come back to the hotel with us?" he offered. 

"Or ... just go home?" Prowl said hesitantly, glancing between his lovers. "I'm not sure I'll want to move once this begins."

Jazz nodded and kissed him softly. "We would like to be home with you," he murmured, gaze flickering up to Radiance. " _Our_ home." 

"Should we catch a transport?" Radiance asked. "If we don't call Windcrest, there is plausible deniability about our location."

Prowl chuckled and nuzzled him and singled them all to stand. "I do like how you think."

Radiance smiled and turned Prowl's face towards him with a single finger, brushing their lips together. "I'll get everything from the room and settle the account, and meet you two at the station."

"And then home," Jazz murmured. 

There was a short silence. 

"And then home," Prowl said, in a voice that all but broke his mates' sparks. 


	31. Admissions to the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternately titled: The Authors Have Had Enough of Fluff...but then included a bunch anyway because they haven't learned how to say No to the characters

Radiance followed Prowl and Jazz through their apartment-- _their_ apartment, he thought again, trying to believe those words--up to the second level, and out to the balcony with the hot oil pool. They were quiet, touching to direct more than speaking, all of them tense with the knowledge of what was coming. 

They settled in together in the liquid heat and looked out over the glittering landscape of Praxus at night and were simply quiet for a time as the warmth seeped into their frames. Eventually Jazz turned to Prowl, wings set just a fraction low in accordance with the protocols he'd installed. Never held high, when there was to be a potential disagreement, or lowered enough to be submissive with a weakened stance, but just enough to indicate there was no threat, no judgment, only what the mech thought was right and the willingness to stand behind it. 

"There's nowhere else to look," Jazz said softly, as Radiance held one of Prowl's hands in his own.

"They are somewhere," Prowl murmured, leaning into his mate. It was part ritual, arguing it, but it was really just trying to process and his field was a riot of the conflict. He _knew_ they were right. It was why he'd suggested coming home. At the same time, his emotional center and spark were in violent denial of what he was hearing.

"They are," Radiance agreed. "But we have nothing to follow, and they could be anywhere. The odds of locating them with three mecha performing random searches among a constantly shifting planet-wide population of billions..."

"And my love," Jazz said, turning Prowl's face towards him with gentle fingertips. "Just because they must be somewhere, does not mean they are somewhere with their sparks still in their frames. That is a small chance, but it grows every orn."

It was a cruel thing to say, that truth, and it made Prowl tremble. His field screamed his denial before he went abruptly calm, only for the denial to build again.

Radiance gave Jazz a worried, confused look.

Jazz reached past Prowl and gave Radiance's hand a brief, reassuring squeeze, while never looking away from Prowl's optics. "Shh, love, it is still a small chance," he murmured. "Most likely, they will survive. Their heritage all but ensures they will do _whatever_ necessary, and they have each other to live for. But we have no way to find them, not without giving up everything and devoting endless vorns to searching."

"We have better ways to hunt," Prowl said calmly despite the rising distress clattering across his processors and interfering once more before being caught and crushed. "Our positions give us access to data networks. A few well crafted spiders will do more good than centuries of pedes to the ground."

"That is a good plan," Radiance said, getting close enough to nuzzle him. 

Jazz nodded and pushed his agreement into his field. "That will keep you here, and safe, and you will do better if you are not looking for them yourself. This will get easier," he said, carefully monitoring the rapid shifting in his mate's field between calm and distress. He placed his hand over the center of Prowl's chest, met his optics. "You know it will."

There was a spike of _denial-pain-distress-hate_ and then he settled again. "I know." He shivered, pressing into the offered comfort. "Three orns and it'll be functionally over."

Jazz's gaze dimmed. "Love..." he said, sadly. 

"Three orns?" Radiance echoed, stunned. He turned Prowl's face towards him. "How will this be over in three orns?"

"Protocols that kept me functional when I gave up the sparklings I carried," Prowl answered him quietly. "It works better when the creator protocols are not allowed to fully engage in the first place, but it works well enough even with these two. Something I asked you to forget I possessed."

Radiance was quiet for a long moment. "I learned something that made me certain that coding was keeping you from feeling the grief of giving your creations up," he finally murmured, and his hand came around to rest over Jazz's, directly above Prowl's spark. "Grief that would be here. Will they work the same for this?"

"Yes, as soon as I admitted to myself that they were gone, it activated," Prowl lifted a hand from Radiance's grip to place it over the two over his spark. "It is the nature of it, of the existence I was created for."

Radiance shivered, fully aware of how much information was hidden away in the glyphs should he choose to chase it down and link it in with everything else. "Would you like to wait, then?" he asked quietly. "The three orns, until you talk to me?"

Prowl murmured, a wordless sound and lifted his hand from Jazz's grip to cup the back of Radiance's neck, drawing him in to rest their chevrons together. "No. I would rather the trauma be revisited all at once. What we survived was ugly, and much of it is still very raw."

"You survived it together," Radiance said, now more certain of that than ever, and they both nodded. His spark felt tight, anxious, and as much as he tried, his vents weren't entirely steady. 

Jazz hand cupped a hand on Prowl's cheek to draw him around and looked into his mate's optics as he brought both hands up to cup his face. "I'd like you to spark merge with him," he said, so quiet that Radiance could barely hear him. "Once it's over." 

It was Prowl's turn to shake, his field, unguarded here between the mecha he loved, undulated and flickered, washing between deep fear from multiple sources, desire just as intense as uncertainty. "You ... are sure?"

"I'm sure," Jazz said, steady and certain against him. "I've wanted that for a long time. Wanted both of you to have that." 

"Saxo..." Radiance drew Jazz's attention. "Three can merge," he said, startled that his mate wouldn't know something as simple as that, Praxian or not. "It isn't hard to do." 

The pair went quiet, sullen, pained but calm. It was Prowl who spoke. "When you know the full story, you'll understand. If you wish to merge with only me?" he looked at the dark mech, honestly uncertain.

Radiance answered with a deep, searing kiss. "Yes, _yes_ I want to merge with you, you have no idea..." He looked back at Jazz, hesitated, then reached out to stroke his cheek. "I want both of you." 

Jazz shuddered and pressed into the touch. "So do I," he whispered longingly, and there was a sudden _tension_ in his field, followed by a short snap of a burning, seething, wild _rage_ that made Radiance gasp before it was gone, leaving the familiar, calm field in its wake. Jazz shivered and looked to Prowl. "I can hardline in with you, at least." 

"Three way hardline," Prowl suggested, standing so they could lay on their berth for this. "This is his story more than mine."

"Combination of both memory sets will show the most," Jazz murmured, almost to himself. "You're sure you want to do this right now?" he asked Prowl one last time as they stood for a moment to let the oil drip from their frames once they stepped out onto the balcony. 

"Yes," he nodded, drawing Jazz close and kissing him. "Better to get it over with. We've all wanted this longer than we'll admit to."

Jazz inhaled, cycled, and vented slowly, and held his arm out to Radiance, bringing him in to stand with them, wings brushing together, each holding the others, until they were dry enough to go inside and settle on the berth. 

Prowl and Jazz laid Radiance back and stretched out on either side of him, Jazz stroking his helm and Prowl his chest. "Hardline for the story. We can merge if you still want us afterwards," Prowl decided, his tone firm as he shifted his touch to circle a dataport on Radiance's chest.

The port spiraled open as Radiance turned to bring Prowl into a kiss. "I'm not going to stop wanting you, beloved," he murmured. Prowl just smiled at him, field and expression tinged with what felt like an ancient grief, and clicked into his chest. 

Radiance's cable went to Jazz, and Jazz's went to Prowl, and on the final click, three processors came peripheral to each other, firewalls lowered, frames settled, and then a long silence. 

~Designations first?~ Jazz questioned. 

~It will ... I want you to see how he thinks, love,~ Prowl responded with a hint that this was something that excited him very much, that it made Radiance very attractive to him. ~Don't stop yourself from making connections this time,~ he trilled to Radiance. ~I am Seneschal Prowl. He is Lord Jazz of the House of Vortex.~

Radiance didn't need to make connections to know those designations, and the stunned shock that slammed through him and into his field left him feeling beyond dazed. Almost immediately his processors pulled up two detailed images, downloaded as part of a top priority, arrest-on-sight, planet-wide search that was still officially ongoing. 

~My frame,~ Jazz said, smiling nostalgically as soon as he saw it. ~How I miss those frames some orns.~

~You--you have botnapping charges against you, serious ones,~ Radiance managed, looking at his lover as _Prowl_ for the first time. ~Of-- _you!_ Of--of a...~ He looked back to Jazz. ~They're twins. Primus below, you didn't each carry one, they're _twins!_ You were never botnapped, oh...~ He struggled to sit up between them, too tense to stay completely still, hand going to Jazz's shoulder, then looking at Prowl. ~He ran away with you!~

~Yes. It took us a vorn to get out, and if it hadn't been for what _he_ wanted to do with one of them we would have taken longer. We bolted long before my plans were ready and we paid a high price for it, but we survived.~

~Vortex,~ Radiance said, and then at the way they flinched just at hearing the designation, immediately brushed his field out in comfort and apology. ~Him. What did he...~

Jazz shuddered. ~In time. That's close to the end. The beginning is...~ He cocked his head and his lips quirked up in a slightly smile. ~The very beginning is happier. We were in love, as much as I could understand what that meant, but I was contracted to an oligar who wanted my seals intact. Prowl and I believed that once they had been broken and my bonded tired of my frame's newness, we could be together as much as that world would allow. But... he's a seal fetishist. Once he breaks them, he keeps them until they deactivate, and doesn't let any other touch them. It's the thrill of knowing his is the only spike to have ever been inside a frame.~

Prowl picked up then. ~He kept me alive even after I'd touched his property because it meant he could continue to punish me, and he didn't want me to deactivate while Jazz still had feelings for me.~ He shuddered, part of him shutting down just at the prospect of facing these memories again. It took him a moment to drag himself back to the timeline and begin properly. ~Jazz was kindled to a noble House that was losing credits faster than they gained. I and my creations were their greatest asset other than their own creations they could sell off, so long as they only had a few. My first two were sold to larger Houses. My third is almost one hundred now and I didn't know his designation until recently. He is my replacement for the House, as I went with Lord Jazz to his newly founded House. By then, as I know you've gathered, we were already deeply in love. The night before we left was one of the best, and worst, of my existence up to that point.~

~That's why you've always acted like you've known each other as long as you've been alive,~ Radiance said, and looked at Jazz. ~He's been there since you separated. The Praxian you saw, the first mech you wanted.~ He turned back to Prowl. ~You said you knew as soon as you saw him you were in trouble.~

~Even as a new sparkling he captured me in a way no creation before or since has,~ Prowl confirmed. ~Seneschal coding ensures I have a strong caretaker drive, but very little possessive interest in the youths around me, not even my own. Jazz was the exception. He was my Lord and thus more important than the others, but he was also _mine_ in a way that I still do not completely understand.~

~And I didn't make it easy on him,~ Jazz chuckled, field brimming with bright joy to be able to talk about this with another, freely and without fear. He pulled up the memory of the night he'd snuck into Prowl's quarters and kissed him, the unbelievable _tension_ and _want_ they'd felt. Radiance smiled as they all watched, but too quickly, the memories were shifting forward to Kaon, to Prowl's conversation with fellow servants in a washrack, to his panic, to the desperate, clashing first kisses in a grotto. The tactile/hardline overload that Prowl gave Jazz, sweet and painful all at once. Watching Prowl overload himself, experiencing the erotic tension and an unbridled hope they had both felt at the prospect of running away together, Jazz brimming with hope and joy for the future, before a crack ran through the world at the sound of a single pedefall, and then everything _shattered._

He watched the guards that came in, Jazz's effort to send them away, only to see Prowl bound and a blaster to his helm while Jazz was unceremoniously dragged off. They felt Jazz as he fought against his lover's parting words, and Radiance glimpsed the reality of a long, terrible night grieving for his lover before letting go of him near the end to focus on survival as Prowl would have wanted. 

Focus shifted completely to Prowl after that and he shared the strange calmness that came with complete acceptance of his fate, execution. 

Only... that execution never came, and before long, Radiance was shuddering along with Prowl, horror growing with every passing moment. Prowl was shielding the agony of these memories, but it came through in the sounds, the thrashes, as his frame was melted away. Radiance didn't have to feel what Prowl had to have a fundamental grasp of what it must have been like. To be able to imagine what it felt like to have his plating either torn off or melted.

Radiance shared Prowl's horror at the words Vortex spoke, at the promises made that were believed. He felt Prowl's desperate move in shutting down his own sensor net in such a crude, if effective, way. He watched as Prowl's very mind, his ability to control his own settings, was shredded and locked down, forcing him to feel everything that happened to him.

There was a brief moment in the memory that Prowl was barely cognizant of but for Radiance it said more about who and what Prowl was than any amount of speech ever could. When the choice was between protecting his frame and securing his mind, Prowl didn't even consider it. The firewalls had his full attention, more important than even working out where he was or what was going on.

Prowl did his best to skim the memories, to lessen the trauma for his new lover without lessening the truth for Radiance of just how much Prowl had survived that orn. Just that night of a vorn.

Fingers melted off, one at a time. Eleven and a half breems in all before his hands, all the way down to his wrists, were finally gone. Eleven and a half breems and Vortex had overloaded twice from it. Prowl offered the number to give Radiance a grounding in how long this torment took since he skimmed much of it. His goal was to make Radiance fully understand what had happened, hopefully without traumatizing him to the extent that they'd been by living through it.

When the memory finally cut for a moment of being knocked offline and returned with the sight of something on the floor in front of him that had Prowl utterly fixated, Radiance peered, confused, trying to figure out what it was. When he realized--

~No--Primus, oh--those--~ He choked. Prowl's doorwings, one of them partially melted, ripped right from the base and thrown to the floor in disgrace.

~It gets worse,~ Prowl warned him, trying to prepare him for a blow that simply couldn't be softened.

Prowl's spike was extended against his will, something that in that moment left the still-dazed Prowl quite confused. Radiance couldn't stop the slight grin when Prowl threw insults instead of fear, only to shudder when he realized that Prowl was trying to anger Vortex enough to kill him right then and there.

Then fire touched spike and the very coding of the memory began to warp from the pain.

Radiance seized from shock and grabbed for Prowl and flared his field, desperate to feel him _safe_ in the present as he watched something that no one could have survived intact. Everything lurched in a confusing moment as Prowl fell, cuffs slipping over the stumps that had been hands, leaving him on his back as a huge, dark frame loomed over him, pressing unrelentingly. 

When it finally, _finally_ ended Radiance found that his hands were gripping Prowl tight enough to dent. He tried to loosen his fingers, couldn't even do that, and shuddered when he heard Vortex's parting words, ominous and damning to Jazz, who still had no idea what was coming. 

There was a lull for the bonding ceremony and it gave all three a chance to steady themselves again, though Radiance did not miss how easily and completely Jazz was shifting his very core beliefs and needs. It was eerie, and more than a little unsettling to the free-sparked mech.

~It is very normal for a second creation noble,~ Prowl told him gently as Jazz and Radiance both reached for Prowl, holding their mate tightly between them. Despite the calmness of Prowl's words, it was impossible to miss just how badly rattled he was by watching the events that had forged a criminal from a seneschal.

~You don't have to watch all of this,~ Jazz murmured to Radiance. ~It will be much more of the same. But to truly understand us...~

~I need to,~ Radiance said, looking between his mates. ~I'm going to. This...this shaped you.~

~It created us,~ Prowl said. ~What we are now was forged by _him_. What we were before is only a shadow in our current selves.~

Radiance nodded weakly, grateful that the replay was paused, or at least slowed, while he gathered himself. ~I need to know what he did to you both.~

~He didn't deactivate us.~ Prowl answered grimly. ~In the end, that is what he did and did not do.~

~Not for lack of desire,~ Jazz snarled, and watched with some disgust at the way he was trilling subserviently to the rotor as they entered their shared quarters. Radiance watched with no judgment for that but instead with amazement at the way the young processor was already learning field control by using vivid memories. Jazz smiled faintly. ~Seems amateurish now,~ he commented on his own technique. 

Radiance shuddered at the memory of the stench from inside that room, something that got worse the further in Jazz moved. The visual feed sharpened as the young noble looked around when coding that was designed to take in a space and figure out the most pleasing aesthetic arrangement for a bonded took over, and then that heightened gaze fell on something sitting off to the side of the berth. 

Radiance had both the advantage and disadvantage of realizing what he was looking at before Jazz had, and he choked, groping blinding for Prowl as he stared at the mangled frame that was somehow _still alive_. Optics that were nearly white with agony came on, startling Jazz, and Radiance fled back from the memory, shaking. ~I'm sorry,~ he gasped as they both curled around him. ~I just need--I'm sorry, I've never seen anyone look like that and still be alive.~ There was a _horror_ in seeing a living frame in such condition that simply didn't exist with a deactivated one. 

~That first round, as shocking as it looks, is nothing compared to the condition he'd leave me in later,~ Prowl held his lovers tightly, all of them taking much needed comfort in the strength and vitality of the others to get past those moments. Memories flickered from further on, offering themselves for example before Prowl shunted them back into place in the timeline. ~Try to remember. We survived. We are strong, alive and fairly sane. We love you and we are only showing you this because we wish you to be part of our existence forever. If there was a way for you to understand why we've done all we've done, why we are what we are and fear what we do without showing you this, we would.~

Radiance nodded, taking as few moments as possible to steady himself before moving back into the now-combined memory feeds from his mates, the jarring mix of Jazz's shocked panic and anger and Prowl's dread and certainty of what was about to happen leaving him shivering. 

As skilled as Jazz was at combat now, he was equally untrained then, and the small, slight frame stood no chance against the combat-upgraded rotor, and he was pinned in moments with no effort, no matter how much he thrashed to escape. From Prowl's memory, Radiance saw the bladed spike, and from Jazz, felt the edges scraping across abdominal plating, leaving him with no doubt that it was as terrifying as it looked. ~He'll rip you apart with that,~ he gasped. 

~He did, countless times,~ Jazz said grimly. ~Though it was worst this first night. It got better for me, but for Prowl...~ He shook his head.

They watched in silence as Jazz skimmed the file forward through the moments of pleasure that now sickened him, up to the moment when his spike extended into Vortex's fingers. Prowl synced his own feed back up, and then Jazz felt a confusing, painful _lurch_ while Prowl watched the rotor sink sharpened denta around his love's spike and _tear_ , coming away with energon dripping through his lips.

~He never did replace that,~ Prowl added. ~All other damage to both of us was always repaired, but he didn't have a spike again until we escaped.~

The focus shifted to Jazz briefly when the pain abated, watching as his gorgeous spike, a work of art as much as the rest of his frame, was forced into Prowl's mouth. The sickening crunch of Prowl's denta crushing the creation mean for pleasure into bits, then the slide down his intake and into his tank where it would be broken down and used to repair him. If he ever had enough energon again.

Jazz shuddered faintly. ~If you could call what Flatline did 'repairing,'~ he muttered, then smirked as he glanced through Prowl's memory of the view of his legs tied high and apart, putting his forcefully bared valve on open display. ~Well didn't I make a lovely image,~ he said, voice dripping with disdain.

~I like it better when they're flat and you're dripping hot,~ Prowl cooed, forcing a few more modern images into the stream along with his worry for his mate. ~Hated watching what he did to you more than what he did to me.~

Jazz leaned across to kiss him before settling against Radiance's chest, wincing in unison with the other two as Vortex slammed in. He tried to separate the pain from the memory file as much as he could, but the sickening feeling of his delicate valve being shredded in a single pull couldn't be removed. Radiance curled an arm around Jazz, holding tightly. ~You said you sometimes wonder if your creators would have acted the same, if they had known about him.~

Jazz nodded. For his part, the next joors were spent in a disoriented haze of agony, being pushed and pulled around on the berth as nothing more than the plaything that Vortex had still considered him at that point. There was no mistaking the rotor's intense lust through field or frame, curled as he was around the smaller noble, spike pistoning when it was even visible. To call it _rutting_ would almost be generous. It was taking his conquest. 

Jazz shook his head and sped the feed up as much as possible while still giving an idea of how endless the first part of night had felt. ~I don't know if they would have or not,~ he said honestly, looking at Prowl. ~I believe my carrier loved me, even if I was only a source of income to my sire.~

~They had a better source of income,~ Radiance said, nuzzling Prowl. ~Apparently they didn't realize it, or thought too much of themselves to use it.~

~A bit of both. I still believe they would have prepared you better had they known,~ Prowl struggled to say through the haze of reliving this, even knowing there was worse to come.

Vortex lumbered off the berth, a sudden and startling pause. ~You will see why those images they circled planet-wide were worthless,~ Jazz said dryly. ~I can only wonder that he didn't give an estimation closer to how I appeared at the end of a vorn.~

~Doesn't help to get Enforcers on your side if you tell them you disfigured your 'botnapped' bonded,~ Radiance murmured, trying not to think about what was coming. ~Your creators supplied those images, Jazz.~

Jazz started slightly, but before he could even begin to respond to that, Vortex was holding the torch to his lips, pinning the noble without needing any restraints. 

Radiance made it almost halfway through watching Jazz being all but melted down before he turned away, shaking. ~Stop!~ he gasped, _pleaded_ , because even if it didn't look like the mech he'd fallen in love with, the voice was the same, and those shrieking, desperate sounds of agony were overwhelming. ~I'm sorry--a moment, just a moment.~

The response was instant at his word glyph even if it took his processor a moment to realize they really were listening and paying attention to him despite what was passing through the hardlines and their processors.

~Shu, shu, it's okay, love,~ Prowl held him, stroking his chevron with his lips soothingly along the small ridges while Jazz stroked his doorwings in much the same manner. ~We survived. We're okay. We're here and so are you. _He_ is far away.~

~Lucky for him,~ Radiance snarled with a furious rev of his engines, a rare sound for the normally laid back mech. He was calming quickly under their touches, and after another klik, sighed, and nodded. ~All right.~

~You don't have to see all of this,~ Jazz murmured, offering up that option again. ~It will get worse. We can strip the memories down to data files, you would still know everything that happened.~

~ _No,_ ~ Radiance said. ~I am watching with you. You both survived this, I can survive the memories.~

Jazz nodded once and started again. The screams filled their processors, the sight of liquid living metal mixing with transfluid as Vortex ground against the melting frame and overloaded again and again, until the comparative _relief_ when he finished with the torch and wore himself out the rest of the way by driving into the gash between Jazz's legs that could no longer be called a valve. 

The relief when Vortex finally dropped into recharge, right on top of Jazz, was intense. 

The brief exchange that followed on their comms was telling to the mech whose gift was connecting data. Despite it all, Prowl was still focused on helping Jazz, and Jazz was obedient to him despite their significant gap in rank.

All three used the break to recover, but it was Radiance that noticed there was still a feed coming from Prowl. Small and dim, but there.

~When he locked my controls, he also prevented me from recharging. The only relief I had was energy deprivation induced stasis, and he rarely allowed me to go that low. Even for repairs I was fully cognizant. As much as one can be after being awake that long. I was pretty glitchy after a vorn.~

Radiance nodded shakily, feeling at once the need to hold and be held that his mates seemed to also be feeling, and it was resulting in their current tangle. ~One night done,~ he said weakly.

~A vorn to go,~ Prowl shuddered, holding him tightly. ~Only a few other nights were markedly different.~ His gaze flicked to Jazz. ~At least from my perspective. The spark merge was a moment for me, a good one. But he should see what you learned to do, to me, to the ones that didn't survive.~

Grief, and a guilt that Radiance had felt once before, welled up in Jazz for a moment. 

~He taught you everything he knew,~ Radiance said, and Jazz nodded. Radiance turned to Prowl. ~And ... he practiced on you.~ Against them, Jazz shuddered. 

~Yes,~ Prowl nodded, pressing close. ~Towards the end, Jazz was good enough to convince _him_ that he was enjoying it, that he hated me and wanted to punish me for all the trouble I'd caused them.~ A slightly hysterical giggle creeped across the line. ~We're both very good actors when we need to be.~

~You fooled me. I knew you weren't who you said you were, but I had no clue....~

~Only because I asked you to erase it,~ Prowl murmured. ~I kept that memory, if you'd like it back.~

Radiance cocked his head, nodded, and accepted the offered file, then chuckled as it integrated neatly back into the erased spaces. ~I can't be certain, but from that, I am almost positive I had figured out you were a seneschal. Some of the most brilliant mecha with humility and the desire to serve literally bred into them, and ambition bred out.~ He caressed Prowl's cheek. ~Though I'm sure not all of them have sparks as bright and lovely as yours.~

Jazz smiled, then regretfully drew Radiance's attention back. ~He forced me to bond with him the next night,~ he murmured, and the memory stream began again. 

Radiance was lost to time and space as his very concept of evil evolved, and his morals of what was acceptable. Not just because he loved these mechs who had done such horrible things, but because he finally understood _how_ a good mecha could do such things and still have a good spark.

He was going to need a few more orns off just to recompile his code and work out how to do his job when he knew what he did now.

All that, and they still were in Vortex's estate. He was becoming a bit numb to the horror, much as they had, but everything still came to a screeching halt when he realized that the current subject was a carrier less than a metacycle from separation and Jazz wasn't just watching or helping, but the primary.

~I'm not proud of this orn,~ Jazz murmured. ~There are many orns I'm not proud of, but this one...~ He trailed off as the carrier begged and he hesitated, before learning in a sudden leap how to _hate_ on command, realizing that the carrier would choose his sparkling's life over Prowl's, and making him scream for it. 

Radiance could only stare, frozen, as he felt the glee coming from his lover when the spark left the frame and the memory turned into yet another of the thousands of episodes of Vortex spiking his bonded. He felt a tentative brush from Jazz over the hardline and looked up into wide, uncertain optics.

A moment later, the feed forcefully sped up by Prowl, he saw his lovers' exchanged texts and heard Jazz sobbing. 

~P-please tell me that was the worst,~ Radiance couldn't help but plead. He loved these mechs, he really did, but he wasn't sure he could take anything more. Knowing this didn't make him love them any less, but the scars just from watching their memories were already digging deep into his psyche and it wasn't even over yet. They weren't about to run. There was more to come, but he begged them both that it not get any worse.

~No,~ Jazz whispered, optics blinking off as he leaned against Prowl, seeking support from the mech who did know and still loved him despite. ~I won't show you if you don't want to know.~

~I'm sorry,~ Radiance shuddered, pressing close and holding them both. ~I love you both, none of this changes that, but I can't see anything more. I can't. I'm sorry. I want to know you both, but you're stronger than I am right now.~

Prowl reached an arm around to hold Radiance, reassure him by touch and hardline that he was accepted, that it was all right. ~We spent a vorn building up to that, and we either learned to accept, or we'd be extinguished. You do not have the advantage of either. But you've seen enough, if you can still accept us knowing what you know now.~ He glanced at Jazz to confirm that this was enough of a test, enough for Radiance to understand them and their respective glitches. ~It gets much, much calmer once we get away.~

Jazz nodded in agreement, still pressed harder against Prowl. ~There are things before then he should still see,~ he murmured. ~We can filter. He should see when _he_ tried to spark rape you.~

Radiance startled, looking at Prowl, alarmed, and the last thing he expected was to hear Jazz's engines purring from that memory.

Prowl chuckled and purred back, a vicious grin on his face as the memory opened up. It began with the usual refueling. Vortex grabbed him by the neck, forced his face up and poured high grade down his intake, giddy as the energy exploded through Prowl's systems in fits and spurts, causing him to thrash. It was a lot of energon to take in at once, but Prowl quickly began routing it to his processor. It left him more dazed than he had to be, but all the programs and automatic scripts that didn't need his commands began to run. His control over a network that spanned the estate in intimate detail and spread over the entire empire through the standard networks didn't fail to leave Radiance amazed in the best of ways.

Then Jazz came in and made himself seductive on the berth while Vortex watched, then hauled Prowl to the end of the berth. The next line made even Radiance stall.

_"You will pleasure him. Fail to knock him offline and I will punish you severely."_

~All I can guess is that he really believed Prowl wouldn't be able to handle more than one overload of his own, if that, and that I might never reach one,~ Jazz said. ~It... that was when I realized he meant to keep me, instead of snuff me once he had his heirs. That he loved me, and believed I loved him.~ Jazz smiled faintly, leaning against his mate as they relived this glimmer of something less than horrible from their time spent trapped in that estate. ~You are a stud,~ he teased his lover. ~Your heritage served you well.~

~I'd spent many vorns imagining pleasuring you, even if I'd always assumed I would be doing so as the submissive one,~ Prowl purred, his engine rumbling as their first real interface played out in gorgeous detail. Jazz may not have dared record this in high quality, but Prowl had. Every taste, every shiver, every sound and touch was as intense as it had been in that moment when their long denied desires had finally been acted on. It was enough to bring them very close to overload even now.

Radiance tried to focus through his lovers' pleasured haze, confused by something else he was feeling. ~He's enraged,~ he murmured. ~Why hasn't he stopped you yet? He can see how much you're enjoying this.~

Jazz managed to pull out of the memory enough to mentally shrug. ~He ordered Prowl to offline me, I assume he wanted to see through to the conclusion.~ He moaned when Prowl forced him over, pushing his shoulders down and pulling his aft up. ~So good even with what you were using,~ he gasped, and both Praxians purred proudly to him. 

~Wanted you for so long,~ Prowl shivered, his will to hold to the memories wavering in face of his desire to overload inside his mate once more. ~It was amazing to feel you around me, against me like that. I couldn't make myself care what was coming. I had you for that moment.~

~Do you two want to take a break?~ Radiance teased.

~Yes!~ two minds echoed through his processor, causing all three to laugh.

~When do we pass up a chance to 'face?~ Prowl purred deeply as he put the show on pause and focused fully on the here and now. 

~Never, you two are the worst I've seen,~ Radiance chuckled as Jazz scrambled into his mate's lap, reaching for Radiance as he grabbed Prowl in a deep, consuming kiss. 

"Come on," Jazz gasped, speaking out loud and grinding their panels together. "Frag me like you did then."

Prowl's engine gave a deep growl of desire that flooded both the other mechs across the hardlines before he pushed Jazz down, pinning him on his back and grinding their panels together briefly before Prowl snapped his open. "Mine, my lovely. Always mine."

Jazz grinned, baring himself for his lover, as Radiance shifted behind Prowl and rubbed warm, inviting fingers over the closed valve panel. It snapped open immediately and Prowl pressed into that most welcome touch that placed him firmly in the middle.

"Let a Praxian stud please you at the same time," Radiance purred, leaning over him, running an inviting hand up the inside of his thigh. He reveled in the desire they both felt for him, how welcomed he was into this intimacy that they had no need to allow him into. It was a welcome relief from the memories as well, a reminder of why he was enduring it.

"Yes," Jazz moaned at the idea. "We'll have you between us, my love." 

Prowl could only moan and leaned forward to kiss Jazz, hot and deep as he sank into the valve that was always slick and ready for him. Through the hardline he shared the sensation with both his lovers, along with his intense anticipation of being pressed and ground between two mecha he loved dearly. The perfection that was a triad slipped from both Prowl and Radiance, flooding into Jazz and encouraging the fledgling Praxian protocols to engage more fully and experience the bliss that was being with three that meshed so well.

Radiance shifted and angled himself to push into Prowl, completing the union, and Jazz gave a sharp, keening cry as he felt the pleasure rush from both of his lovers. "Radiance," he sobbed, and something in his voice made both Praxians stop and hold where they were. 

~Jazz,~ Radiance answered. 

~Everything I've done, you can still stand me?~

"Would you kiss our ridiculous mate for me, please?" Radiance murmured to Prowl, and hummed in approval as Prowl happily and readily complied with the request. ~Not only can I still stand you, I still love you so much it _hurts_ to imagine not having you. Not being able to handle the things you were _forced_ to do to survive isn't a reflection of who _you_ are to me. You are strong, you saved Prowl when I couldn't, and you are a _good mech_. And Jazz...~ 

Jazz hummed through the deep kiss that Prowl was still giving him. 

"You are _ours_ ," Radiance said, and slammed his hips forward, causing Prowl's frame to shift forward, driving him deeper into Jazz, and his powerful engines revved at the dual cries he got in response. "Now, my love, will you help me drive our mate," he pulled out and thrust again, ~Our _Prowl_ ,~ he gripped Prowl's hips in his hands, "To a screaming, processor-whiting overload?"

Jazz's frame tried to arch up under the weight of both his lovers. "Yes!" he cried, pulling his legs back to hook around Prowl's hips, pulsing ecstasy through his field and over the hardline. "Love you both, want you both!" 

"Triad, lover," Radiance purred, pleasure coursing through him. "You have us both." 

~Feel how good it is, my Jazz,~ Prowl moaned, trembling as he allowed Radiance to drive the pace, smoothly moving as the others dictated. ~I'll never need more than you, but this is so _perfect_.~

~It is good,~ Jazz gasped, rocking his hips in a counter-rhythm to Radiance, pushing and pulling at Prowl between them. His hand reached up and back, found Radiance's, twined their fingers together and held tightly. There was a joy, and a peace, to feeling all three frames moving together, each working to pleasure the others, each being pleasured by the others. ~It's like a dream.~

~This is triad at its best,~ Radiance moaned, hints of what his own creator-triad felt like when they were all settled by a recent interface slipping into the connection. ~Triad is much stronger than three.~

Prowl could only tremble between them, his ability to think largely wiped out already, but he responded to Radiance words with belief and deeply coded agreement that helped Jazz's new protocols connect further into his own processors through the deep links he already shared with Prowl.

Jazz managed to nod, face pressed to Prowl's helm, his lover's against his neck, Radiance moving above both of them. ~Prowl, Jazz,~ the dark mech gasped, the new designations making his lovers' fields flare out in pleasure in a way the assumed ones never had. 

~ _Radiance_ ,~ they responded in unison, before all three were _lost_ to the triad union, crying out and shaking together, _bliss-joy-sorrow-love-support-ecstasy_ tumbling chaotically through their twirling, meshing fields, more of a rush than the charge that flooded through their frames ever could be.

They remained there, joined and unified as well as any unbonded mecha could be as they gradually came down from the intense high of it all.

~A break was a good idea,~ Radiance mumbled when his upper functions finished their reluctant boot cycle.

~Yes,~ Prowl agreed, his processors happily lazy along with his frame. There was a desire to get back to the job of filling Radiance in on what had happened to them, but it was barely a blip on their shared awareness right now.

~Show me what he did to you,~ Radiance finally murmured, and he lifted himself up, pulling out of Prowl to settle next to them on the berth, coaxing Prowl to roll between them. His lovers moved in unison, shifting to their sides, frames still joined, and Radiance pressed his chest to Prowl's back, slipping back into his valve and staying there, comfort more than pleasure. 

~It's more what he tried to do,~ Jazz said, smiling, beginning the memory stream again and syncing it up with Prowl's, letting the rounds of interfacing play out until his own file cut out, knocked offline, and Jazz paused for Prowl to continue alone. Prowl skimmed forward over the fear and pain that was being grabbed by the neck and having his chest plates ripped open.

When Prowl's chamber irised open it slowed to real time. The real terror was here, fear on a level that Prowl had never known before, not in nearly a vorn of being the sadist's plaything. They all felt Vortex's pleasure at the reaction and against when a finger was dipped directly into Prowl's spark, then the visual of Vortex's chest plates parting. They all felt it when the memory began to corrupt as Prowl went from afraid and slipped into pure irrational terror.

The merge came fast and painful, and while the memory was still corrupted they caught the shift in the underlying sensations that quickly calmed Prowl's processors. The memory came back into focus, uncorrupted, as Prowl's spark latched onto the large red orb invading him and locked their energies together.

~You've come into my realm,~ Radiance heard in a voice he _knew_ even without having ever heard it. That voice was Prowl, the very essence of the spark that powered the frame. ~You would try to kindle with me. Force me to bear your creation until you ripped it out of me. You know so little of this place.~

Prowl grinned internally as the Vortex of his memory felt fear for the first time in his life, fear that turned into panic when he tried to escape. Radiance's engines rumbled and Jazz's purred.

~Insolent nothing,~ the rotor hissed back, stalling. ~You should only be so honored to bear my creation.~ But the words had felt hollow and sounded weak, and Prowl allowed himself the rush of absolute authority over life and death that was rare enough to feel unnatural.

~No, Vortex. You will bear mine,~ Prowl's voice was strong, certain, even. The pale spark surged, enveloping Vortex's much as Vortex had done to Jazz. ~You were created far below me. You will always be below me. You can break my frame, send my spark back to Primus, but you can not erase the truth that is here.~ Prowl's spark surrounded and trapped with a viciousness he had never displayed in his life before that moment and that still did not come easily for the normally calm mech. His spark held a fire that his processors were carefully shielded from. One brush of that heat had both his lovers moaning and pressing in around him, trembling with _want_ to be one with that essence.

Prowl's memory faded, his ability to perceive anything beyond his frame extremely limited, but Jazz picked up smoothly, showing Radiance what he'd booted to see and hear and how he'd reacted, tearing the two apart, something he still regretted doing, now that he knew what had happened. In that moment, both Jazz and the construct that Radiance was growing more and more familiar with had just been desperate to save the mechs they loved, each from the other.

Vortex had advanced on him, roared at him, barely masking his new terror with rage, while the vicious growls of what could have been a turbo-wolf about to kill served as a backdrop to the entire scene. Jazz was thrown to the berth, his spark exposed and forced into a merge that left the exhausted frame unable to stay online after the overload.

Jazz paused at that point and exhaled through shivering vents, nudging Radiance through the hardline. Their lover felt dazed. 

~If I hadn't wanted him before then,~ Jazz murmured, and his spark _surged_ in his chest, desperately wanting. 

~He is amazing,~ Radiance agreed. He nuzzled the back of Prowl's helm. ~Do all seneschals have processors like yours? Your is ... is astonishing. Paired with your spark it makes you formidable."

~I am one of the finest yet produced, so no, most are not quite as good as I am,~ Prowl responded, a bit at a loss at the idea of being formidable in the way Radiance meant but responding to the desire so clear in his mates. If they found it so desirable, he wasn't going to object to the term.

~It explains so much about you,~ Radiance murmured, still in the process of filtering and integrating the massive amount of data that learning who and what his lovers were had brought in. He cycled his vents, taking a moment to enjoy their fields and the warmth of their frames. ~I think I can see more. I just...nothing worse than what I've seen.~

Jazz nodded. ~After this...he was going to kill Prowl. He'd seen how much I still felt for him. I convinced him that I hated him for it, and asked that he let me torture Prowl for his pleasure until I no longer loved him. After that orn...~ He shuddered. 

~It was much worse for Jazz, but the acts were not as bad as some he'd already done,~ Prowl supplied. ~I think we can give that as data, though, given you care for me much as he does.~

Radiance reached around Prowl to run his arm up and down Jazz's side, teeking as much as comforting. ~Show me one,~ he decided, and felt a strange flicker of relief and gratitude from his mate.

Jazz and Prowl consulted silently for a moment, then nodded. 

~One,~ Jazz said. ~Not the first. One mixed in with the rest of the telling. There is not much longer.~

Radiance shivered. ~Good. I want to know how you got out of there alive.~

Jazz smiled. ~Our lover is responsible for that.~ He and Prowl synced their feeds back up and showed Radiance as many details as quickly as possible, skimming over the repeated sessions of Jazz torturing his love for his bonded's pleasure. Radiance watched Jazz learning how to pick locks and manipulate video feeds and saw the complex planning that Prowl brought together near the end. After they slowed for one of the last times Jazz had ever hurt Prowl, they curled around each other, holding tightly. 

~Do you think you would have lasted much longer?~ Radiance asked quietly.

~I would have lasted as long as I had to,~ Prowl responded the only way he could. ~But Jazz, the construct, we were running out of time even before Jazz learned just how horrible _he_ could be.~

~Worse than I've seen?~ Radiance shivered again. 

~Worse,~ Jazz said, and they showed Radiance up until the medic announced that Jazz was carrying twins, and let him hear Vortex's response. 

It took the SWAT CO a horrified moment to realize that the rotor _had_ meant exactly what he'd said. ~He planned to...~

~He had this... _vision_ of a future with me,~ Jazz said. ~Raising our creation together, teaching him to be like us on his brother. Enjoying _himself_ with his own creation,~ Jazz spat in disgust. He forwarded through the glitching memory stream that followed that moment, his own panic and coding making the images hazy, until Prowl's calm certainty was there. ~But after that...~ 

They slowed for their escape, the first fight against the construct that showed off Prowl's processors and will, even after all the hacking and viruses that left him in terrible condition, and stopped as they walked out the gates, leaving the estate behind them.

Radiance slumped. ~All that in not even two vorns.~

~It felt much longer,~ Jazz sighed. ~It changed us more than one vorn ever should have.~

~It changed me more than my entire lifetime before it,~ Prowl murmured, his still-active creator protocols raging at Vortex in much the way Jazz's had at the time, only far, far more violent in intent. ~By the time we walked out, we were both too damaged to return to what we had been, even if it had been possible.~

~That hurt you more than the torture,~ Radiance realized as he sorted through the intense emotions Prowl was shielding him from with limited success.

~It destroyed me,~ Prowl responded, shivering and pressing against Radiance as he reached over the black mech to make physical contact with Jazz. ~The Seneschal was destroyed and I was rebuilt from what remained. I lost count of how many times I wished to extinguish to end the broken code, but I couldn't do that to Jazz.~

~Do you...want to stay alive?~ Radiance asked, hesitant and uncertain and unfamiliar with taking one's own spark being considered acceptable, but having seen for himself that for Prowl's kind, it was not unusual. Scattered, terrified thought pieces were flicking through his processor, wondering if mercy, if letting this spark go...if going _with_ him...

~I am ... learning to.~ Prowl responded, catching bits and pieces from Radiance and pushing reassurance through the hardline that it was not something Radiance needed to grapple with. ~I've made it past the hardest part. I've found a new function that agrees with my spark and my base coding. I will always long for what I was, miss what I was created to be, but it dims a little every vorn. I am an Enforcer now. It suits me.~

Radiance nodded, relief clear in every line of his frame. ~I'm going to do everything I can to brighten your existence,~ he said, then turned and brought Jazz into a kiss. ~Both of you.~

~Thank you,~ Jazz kissed him before Prowl turned his helm for his own kiss.

~You do a great deal just being here, love.~ Prowl rested their forehelms together, chevrons lined up. ~My triad coding wasn't even active before you. It feels _good_ , settling in a way I didn't know was possible.~

~Same for me,~ Radiance admitted with a soft laugh. ~At least, it wasn't activated like it is now. That first time with you two...that was the first I'd ever been with a pair.~

~You grew up with it, knowing it existed and would activate if you found two others you like,~ Prowl pointed out almost playfully. ~I had no clue until this mass of coding unfurled on me, telling me that three was _right_. I can't say I'm at all sorry for listening to it. You're very good for us.~

~You're good for me,~ Radiance hummed, trying to imagine what it would have been like to have that kind of coding just start up one orn. ~It was lonely before you. I almost can't believe how much now. And knowing you have each other when I'm too busy is a welcome relief.~

~Knowing Prowl has you when I'm gone for orns is too,~ Jazz snuggled against Radiance and gripped Prowl's hand over the back mech. ~Even without the coding you gave me, I could see how this was a good thing for us. I'll have you too, when Prowl finally gives into his natural desires to _work_ for a few orns through. You saw it now, but he used to do it all the time.~

~I enjoy working, performing my function,~ Prowl didn't hesitate to confirm. ~I also enjoy time with my mates. I will never work as I did as a seneschal. I had no one to take care of then. I had the entire estate and all who lived and worked there, but none were _mine_.~

~Until there was a troublemaking sparkling who decided he was going to be yours,~ Jazz teased. ~Whether you liked it or not. He used to call me a Pit demon,~ he added conspiratorially to Radiance.

~He earned it as a mechling too,~ Prowl chuckled, happy to relax and talk of much older times, when they'd had no idea of what was coming. ~What he didn't know is that I saw everything. His first efforts at getting overcharged. The way he danced when he thought no one was watching.~

The playful indignance that came from his younger mate made Radiance chuckle. ~You will have to share,~ he said. 

~Have him share the dances when I knew he _was_ watching,~ Jazz purred. ~Those are better. And he was so _frustratingly_ good at never reacting, no matter what I did, I just kept trying harder to get his attention. He was so beautiful and calm and everyone trusted him, even my creators trusted him with me.~ He stroked Prowl's cheek. ~I loved you so.~

~You made it almost impossible to work some orns, and I couldn't bring myself to care,~ Prowl murmured, the tone that of a shameful secret being shared. ~All I could do was watch you and focus on not begging for you to take me.~

~I would have, too,~ Jazz said, shivering. ~Oh, if you had ever asked, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself. House reputation be damned. It's a good thing for both of us you had as much self-control as you do.~

Radiance hummed. ~Some orn I'll show you how much self-control he _really_ has,~ he purred. ~Before we work on yours. Don't think we've forgotten about that.~

~But now, perhaps we recharge?~ Prowl suggested. ~We have dealt with a great deal this orn. A long defrag to incorporate it all would do us well.~

~You especially,~ Radiance murmured, stroking his lover's helm, then sighed as he felt Jazz curl up around him from behind. ~All of us.~

~Love you,~ Jazz said, speaking to both of them. ~Thank you.~

Radiance and Prowl echoed the words and all three fell readily into welcome recharge.

* * *

Radiance roused first, a glance at his chronometer showing a recharge almost twice as long as what he usually took in a single orn, and his mates were both offline against him. That was little surprise to him, Jazz was integrating a massive number of social protocols and as much triad coding as Radiance could find to give him, and Prowl was dealing with accepting the loss of younglings he had come to know and love, something his coding was not designed for. 

Radiance stayed curled between their frames, relaxed and safe and surrounded by warmth on all sides. Jazz and Prowl. 

He repeated the new--old, original--designations to himself, enjoying the sound and feel of them. They were new, but he would adjust, easily. 

Less easy was going to be adjusting to what they were. Nobles were disliked almost universally by commoners, and there were strong biases towards the kind of structured coding that Prowl had in their society. Not as bad as if he was a pre-prog, but a subtly encouraged disdain. Something Radiance had been working a lifetime to overcome, having met and worked with many mecha from pre-programmed castes over the course of his career. 

Radiance _loved_ these two sparks and nothing was ever going to change that. He wanted to tell their story to the world, show off that they were _his_ mates, let everyone know how strong they were. But not only could he not do that, he couldn't even be publicly affectionate for another forty vorns, and a solid hundred and forty or more before he could admit they were triad publicly or legally. Not without causing a scandal that none of them would enjoy. Mecha were understanding of triads that formed before it was acceptable, but only so long as they remained out of sight. At least he knew the three of the most important mecha in his life, his creators, would not care in the least so long as they agreed that his mates were good for him. 

But then there was Jazz... Radiance shivered. He understood that it had been sheer desperation to survive that had guided his lover's actions, but that didn't make them easier to know about. That was going to take time. 

It was joors later, Radiance still nestled between the other two, integrating all the new data, before Jazz stirred next to him, and a few kliks after that, Prowl's systems began to hum as they started up. After seeing just how complicated Prowl's systems were, it no longer surprised Radiance at how much longer it took Prowl to boot than normal. The mech had a lot of systems to check and far more to load than most.

"You're still here," Jazz's first words contained a mixture of relief and amazement.

"It never even crossed my mind to go," Radiance said, turning his head to accept a kiss. "I found my triad, I'm not leaving it."

Jazz smiled at him, then shifted his gaze to Prowl, watching the familiar start-up sequence. "You realize," he murmured, once he was sure Prowl's external senses had come online, "If he comes looking for us, if he gets even the slightest hint of where we are, we'll have to run." 

"I know," Radiance said, voice soft. That was one of the things he was having the most trouble coming to terms with. There was a possibility that he would have to leave Praxus, or lose them both. "I...I would go with you."

There was a rather long pause as Prowl finished booting. "I will save up accordingly," he murmured, then shifted to nuzzle Radiance before lifting up for a long kiss from Jazz. His fingers found Radiance's dataport. "Do you have any questions, now that you have had some time to process?"

"Is..." Radiance said, spiraling open, then hesitated, waiting until Prowl had clicked in and the rest of the three-way hardline was completed. ~Is there any chance he will find you? Your records here are flawless, these rebuilds incredible,~ he ran his hands over their frames, ~But does he have any way to track you?~

~As far as we know, the trail should have died in Crystal City, while I was still carrying,~ Jazz said. ~We do not take risks.~

~There is always a chance,~ Prowl responded seriously as they all felt that powerful number-crunching processor he'd been bred for did what it did best. ~It is minuscule, but it exists.~

~But the bond...~ Radiance said, already coming to conclusions that he didn't like, thinking he had a good idea of why he had only been offered a merge with Prowl, _praying_ that he was wrong.

~Is blocked.~ Jazz said with a growl, all the hate he had for the myriad of issues that created summed up in the sub-glyphs.

~His second rebuild, the emergency that we were paying off until we moved in here, is a permanent bond blocker,~ Prowl said rather bluntly. ~We haven't quite gotten to that part of the story yet.~

Radiance's engines growled deeply, fingers going to Jazz's chest. ~So we can't have you,~ he said, his field filling with a deep, vengeful rage for a mech he'd never seen and who didn't even know he existed for stealing this from him. ~I realized you weren't bonded, but...~ He looked at Prowl. ~You've never merged, not once.~

~No, we haven't,~ Jazz affirmed, a bitter smile playing over his features. ~My _bonded's_ is the only spark I've known.~

~I'll kill him,~ Radiance snarled, startling even himself at the vehement declaration, primal _protect-vengeance_ triad coding that he'd never been aware of before flaring up. 

~If you get the shot, take it,~ Prowl couldn't make himself say anything else, his own rage flaring hot and bright in a way that terrified his core coding, but was also far beyond its ability to dampen. ~We will protect you from anything that comes of it. But if you can, _catch_ him and give him to us. We have learned so much we want to show him. Not to exclude you, but I do not think you want to be part of what we want to do.~

Jazz purred just at the thought of it. ~Unless you'd like to be there for the opening act,~ he said. ~I'm going to force him to watch as I overload hard and fast on Prowl. He would have kept my valve to himself for eternity, I want him to watch as a mech he considered as less than an Empty brings me more pleasure than he ever could.~

Radiance purred back. ~For that, yes,~ he said. ~But I do not have the taste for torture that you do, my love.~

~He taught it to me, he will suffer for it,~ Jazz said. ~As long as you are nearby when the bond breaks, I will be content.~

~We intend to bond as soon after the break as possible,~ Prowl added. ~Preferably before _he_ even cools. We would include you in that if you can accept the setting.~

~That, I can do,~ Radiance said. He looked to Prowl. ~How did you avoid detection after you got away from the estate?~

~You saw how much I stole from him before we ran?~ Prowl asked and got a nod. ~Much of it was used to pay for our rebuild. High quality materials, military to noble grade armor and systems. The protocols to run them. But what we truly paid for was an invention. Something called sorcelling. We each have it installed.~ He included the basic technical file of what it could do.

Radiance glanced over it, and his frame seized up in shock. ~That's--that kind of technology is considered impossible,~ he gasped. ~It's not even technically illegal because no one thinks it can be done, so no one has bothered!~ 

~We know,~ Prowl chuckled. ~We are the test subjects. We got it relatively cheap because it was completely unproven. I don't exactly keep him up to date, but until the inventor was paid off he knew it was working well enough that we were still free.~

Radiance looked between them. ~How in Primus's name did you even find that?~

Jazz chuckled and looked fondly over at Prowl. ~Our lover has many connections,~ he said. ~One led us to an inventor and his apprentice.~ Jazz's first sight of Mucit and Wheeljack came up, and recognition came immediately to Radiance's field. 

~I've seen that face,~ Radiance said. ~Denounced scientist, he's supposed to be crazy.~ He glanced at his lovers. ~Though apparently not.~

~Crazy or not, he does very good work and much more importantly, he has an impeccable reputation for discretion and not speaking of his clients,~ Prowl said. ~He charges a fortune, but it is worth every credit.~

~Agreed,~ Jazz said, and grinned hugely. ~Because doorwings.~

Prowl gave his lover a fondly patient look. ~The ability to change appearance and escape at a moment's notice isn't bad, either.~

~Yeah, I guess,~ Jazz said. ~But _doorwings!_ ~

~I have to agree with him on this one,~ Radiance said, also grinning at Prowl. ~Show me the rest?~

The pair nodded and queued up their memories from when they got outside the estate and everything had become so very real. They split up, Jazz driving, because he could still transform and Prowl walking, such as he could, since his mangled form could do no better. It was a slow progress, and painful, though it didn't really register as pain to Prowl, not after the agonies he'd endured, only as a hindrance to movement.

Meeting up at the by-joor room, watching his young lover experience something other than a noble's realm for the first time, realizing just how little he'd known, and then moving on to the warehouse and Mucit. Radiance almost sobbed along with Jazz in the memory when he heard the voice he knew as Prowl's. ~I'm going to thank that mech if I ever meet him,~ he said. 

Jazz leaned against him as they skimmed forward through that long, exhausting drive before finally reaching the safety of an empty estate, and Radiance felt an immediate brightening in both his lovers. 

~Alone, safe, and repaired,~ he summarized. ~How long did you stay there?~

~A decaorn,~ Jazz said. 

~And how many overloads in that decaorn?~

~I have no idea,~ Prowl smiled fondly. ~Many. And many, many orns of recharge.~ His entire frame shuddered. ~I needed to defrag so badly. Not even in here can I explain how bad it is going without for so long. The physical pain was easier in many ways than not being able to recharge.~

Jazz trilled to his mate. ~We started discovering the glitches we've been left with, too,~ he sighed, and Radiance saw a reality of vorns of Prowl learning how to recharge without having to drive himself to exhaustion, processors that had been so overclocked for so long that they could no longer cope with having nothing to do, and emotions that were so _painfully_ intense they'd created shorts and a hard crash when the former seneschal hadn't been able to reconcile _why_ he was feeling them. 

~Love,~ Radiance gasped, when he realized what Prowl had done in an attempt to avoid future crashes. ~That's why, last night...~

~Yes. When it gets too intense, the hack I wrote forcefully shuts my emotional center down.~ Prowl nodded. ~It's also why I can't grieve effectively any more.~ He paused. ~Not that I ever really did grieve like you do. Something about having such an advanced processor makes it difficult to process more subtle emotional context. Even if it had been repairable, is repairable, I would have to explain how it happened, and I can't. Not while _he_ lives. Much like Jazz's glitches. They could be fixed, but the price was far too high.~

Radiance wrapped his field around them both, offering as much support as he could. ~I'm sorry I tried to push you to,~ he murmured.

~You had no way to know,~ Prowl countered smoothly, holding him. ~I wouldn't tell you. Your spark was in the right place, and I love you for trying.~

Radiance curled into the arms, pressing against the warm frame. ~I couldn't stand seeing you in pain,~ he sighed before they all looked to the memories again. Radiance glimpsed through Tyger Pax, the increasing weight of Vortex's attack on the bond that led them to the drastic act of fleeing to Crystal City for the blocker before losing everything they had to the sheer cost of the energon needed to keep Jazz alive, watched as his lover offered his frame up for credits without a moment's hesitation, and then witnessed the terror of knowing a bounty hunter was close.

For the first time he saw Prowl panic at something that wasn't an immediate threat, though he understood why well. The deal was made by the gang, and Radiance nearly shuddered at how little it registered to Prowl to have his frame used like that, and then he growled when the leader of the gang threw credits down in front of his mate. A caress from that same lover calmed him again, steadying him until he felt the shock as Jazz was told of the reality of being a commoner, or even a very valuable, powerful servant around nobles.

Then they were driving again, headed for Simfur, and if Radiance had been shocked at how little Prowl reacted to selling his frame, he was _stunned_ by what came after, something that could have crippled many mecha, and Jazz had _laughed_. Just the sound of it was enough to make Radiance shudder. It was manic, unhinged, exactly what he'd picked up on Jazz when they'd first met, but on full, unrepentant display in that moment.

Prowl's memory of that moment faded away into a confusing tumble of images that quickly caused the files to corrupt, and Radiance looked to Jazz's feed to watch as Prowl was slowly coaxed out of a severe flashback loop. 

~Fragging Simfur Enforcers,~ Radiance snarled. ~Someone should have heard that and stopped them. Rotten city.~

~Simfur was good to us, overall,~ Prowl murmured, giving Radiance the fast forward version of the darker orns, intent on getting to the better part when the black Praxian brought it all to a screeching halt when he saw Prowl draining a mech of energon, right in the relative open of an ally.

~I--I know you said you--~ he stammered. ~Just--to see is--I'm...~ He shivered. 

~These were my energy readings while he was doing that,~ Jazz murmured, bringing up a screen that was far, far below what would have been safe for a carrier, especially one of noble protoform, with systems not designed to handle anything less than full tanks. 

Radiance nodded. ~I just wasn't expecting...~ He cycled air through his systems, steadying as best as he could. ~Jazz said something like that, once, I knew it had been part of your reality but I wasn't prepared,~ he told Prowl, pressing his hand to the side of the other Enforcer's face. ~You were surviving.~

~Yes, and my carrier-mate, my Lord, was in desperate need,~ Prowl leaned into the contact. ~Thankfully we were not that desperate for long. I may have been on the wrong side of the law while in Simfur, but it was soon a much cleaner form of crime.~

Radiance hummed. ~Well, let's see it then, and I'll see if it warrants handcuffs,~ he teased.

~Since when have you needed probable cause to cuff me?~ Prowl purred, nuzzling in for a kiss.

Radiance obliged him. ~Never,~ he purred back, hand wandering to his lover's flank and back up. With his free hand he reached back for Jazz and tried to pull him even closer. Jazz wrapped an arm around his waist, fingers dancing over his frame. 

~You in particular will likely find his occupation in Simfur interesting,~ Jazz hummed, nipping against Radiance's neck, and the dark mech's field perked with curiosity. 

Prowl chuckled. ~Likely so,~ he agreed, and all too willingly showed Radiance his successful theft, followed by the memorable flirting that had taken place in the washrack and left them stumbling for a room. 

That scene, like many others before it, left Radiance's engines hot and revving, especially as he watched a new side to Jazz, a forceful lover that he was now familiar with but hadn't seen in these memories until now. He knew Prowl enjoyed that lover, but the memory from Prowl suddenly twisted into something unpleasant as hands closed around his throat. 

Radiance felt the frame-locking panic response that Jazz hadn't, as lost as he was, and he could feel the shame coming from their lover as they watched. 

~Stop,~ Radiance said softly, once it was over. They did so, waiting and watching him. ~It's a trigger for you, the hand on your neck.~

~Yes,~ Prowl said. ~As much as I enjoy being dominated, even bound, it's a very difficult line to tread at times, so we often simply avoid it.~

Radiance nodded, and twisted to look at Jazz. ~But it's something you crave, that's why you did it to me first chance.~

Jazz murmured confirmation of that. ~The Ops work helps,~ he said. ~It takes the edge off.~

Radiance reached back and took his lover's hand, bringing it to his own throat, pressing down. ~Whenever you need,~ he said, as Jazz's optics widened. ~It doesn't bother me.~

~A good triad balances.~ Prowl purred deeply, excited to watch Jazz get off as he did when it was not a surprise.

Jazz shifted up, pulling Radiance onto his back as he swung a leg up and over his hips, straddling him, keeping his fingers curled around the offered neck. ~Even knowing why I grew to like this?~

~Even then,~ Radiance said. 

Jazz released the hold and stretched out over him, kissing deeply, hungrily. When he finally lifted his head, Radiance turned to draw Prowl into his own kiss, and then watched with purring engines as Jazz did the same in turn. 

~Balance,~ Radiance whispered, nuzzling them both. 

~Balance, support, strength,~ Prowl purred. ~Ready to get a few insider tips on Engineer?~

~Engineer?~ Radiance repeated, trilling curiously as Jazz settled down over him, resting his helm on Radiance's chest. 

~Engineer was good to us,~ Jazz said, while Prowl curled an arm around them both, cuddling close. They skimmed their way forward through their memories, moving up until Radiance was watching Prowl design a credit laundering system for an underworld boss, one that excelled in the sales of illegal weapons. 

~You!~ Radiance gasped, stopping everything as he struggled to sit up, turning on Prowl, pushing his mate's shoulders down to the berth. ~ _You_ are the reason imports from Simfur have gotten so--so--do you have _any_ idea how many processor aches Simfur imports have given me over the last half century?~ he demanded, though his field was light, playful, and more than that, _impressed_.

~I've listened to you complain,~ Prowl smiled uncertainly at the mix of field, words and history.

~Rant is more like it.~ Jazz chuckled. ~He really made that big a difference?~

~Oh yes,~ Radiance affirmed, and it was his turn to shift into a straddle over Prowl. ~Out of nowhere, the amount we were seizing from Simfur almost doubled, and what we were getting was going up in quality. That city has become notorious, they've even started routing imports in through other cities because they know we search everything coming in from that direction. You, my love, are a force to be reckoned with.~

Prowl looked up at the mech describing him, again, in terms he had great difficulty attributing to himself. He had no difficulty stating his skills, his qualities, and he took some pride in it, but for Prowl there was always a context that it was to serve another. He didn't understand how to process being the authority, only the agent charged with enforcing it.

~What do you want to do with that?~ Prowl glanced at both his mates, the hardline subglyphs giving them a forceful reminder that Prowl was a servant without a real master, and he wanted one.

Radiance exchanged a look with Jazz, then shook his head. ~ _I_ don't want to do anything with it except admire and love you. I understand now why you don't have the kind of ambition mecha would expect from someone with your skill. You...~ He hesitated and looked back at Jazz for a moment. ~You already serve and provide, for Jazz, and now me. You've given us a beautiful place to live, you've kept Jazz safe and in energon, that's all I want.~

~You keep us happy,~ Jazz trilled and claimed a kiss that was eagerly returned.

Tension melted from Prowl's frame that none of them had noticed build up and he nodded, reaching up to caress Radiance's sides. ~We are a rather odd triad, each of us from a very different culture.~

~We make it work,~ Radiance purred, armor loosening under the wandering fingers as his own came to rest on Prowl's chest, stroking over it. ~Even if I'd known it wouldn't have stopped me falling for you, both of you. You were so _bright_.~

Jazz smiled. ~Would you two like to finish anytime soon so we can give into this?~ He brushed his field against theirs, flickering with want for his mates that was readily returned.

Prowl chuckled lightly and reached over to cup Jazz's helm and pull him in for a kiss. ~Yes, my love.~ The memories picked up again, moving on to combat training with the muscle that had first approached Prowl, then the decision that they couldn't trust Engineer with keeping them safe against _him_ and the trip to Iacon disguised as a vacation. Plans, more killings to rebuild for the staged accident, and then something that Radiance had never witnessed, much less been through.

The warnings of the impending separation, Jazz's tense anxiety and Prowl's calm certainty, but there was more beneath that he wasn't letting his mate feel. Prowl knew that the situation was less than ideal, and there were complications with grounders carrying twins that even he couldn't predict, as rare as the phenomenon was. 

~Hot,~ Radiance whispered, feeling the heat through the memory as easily as his lovers had while experiencing it. ~He's running _so_ hot.~

~The windows wouldn't open,~ Jazz sighed. ~What I would have given for cool air at that moment.~

Radiance nodded, focusing intently as armor shifted away and parted, watching and experiencing from both sides, and just the sight of a newly separated sparkling climbing up made creator coding _surge_ up. 

Jazz shook his head and cut his memory stream off right before Sideswipe crawled up his chest, then backed away from Prowl's. ~I'm sorry, I don't want to see them like this.~

~I know,~ Prowl's mind caressed him gently, supporting his mate in this despite all the pain and trouble it had caused. He easily shielded Jazz from the replay, and from Radiance's responses to seeing the two tiny, bare, glistening protoforms emerging from Jazz's open abdomen. ~He loved them dearly when he could still feel them in his spark.~ Prowl explained. ~It was only after they emerged and he could no longer feel them that his fears overrode his creator code.~

~Sunstreaker's aggressive protectiveness of his twin,~ Radiance surmised. ~Too much like the spark sire's possessiveness towards anything he viewed as his. And the way Sideswipe fixated on flight frames.~

~Yes,~ Prowl murmured, looking at the memory through the very active creator protocols still running hot in his processors. The grief welled up again only to be put down, hard, as Radiance watched the hack in action for the first time from a hardline perspective. It was brutal in his opinion, harsher than it needed to be, but without contacts that could fix it there was little he could do other than try to keep the conditions that activated it from happening.

The separation ended, and then they were in Praxus getting their forged identities, and then the memory stream ended, Radiance already knowing about their lives after that point. 

~Two vorns,~ Prowl murmured. ~All that in just over two vorns.~

Radiance shuddered, undeniably glad that it was over. ~ _I_ have you now,~ he said, voice firm. ~All of that brought you here. My Jazz, my Prowl,~ he murmured, looking between them. ~And I still want you. Thank you for trusting me enough to show me who you are.~

Jazz reached up from where he was pressed alongside Prowl, running a thumb over his jawline. ~There were so many things we had to be sure of first. I don't think we ever set out expecting to find something like this, it was just too dangerous to let someone else in, in a world where he would pay beyond belief to have us back in his control.~

~I never thought I wanted a third, the coding wasn't even active in me yet,~ Prowl reached up to stroke Radiance's doorwings. ~But the way you treated Jazz when he was hurting, that he _liked_ the idea of playing with you. It happened so fast. Thank you for being patient, knowing we were hiding very important things and giving us the time to be sure we weren't going to risk everything to have you.~

~I'd have waited centuries, my loves,~ Radiance promised them, leaning in for a kiss as Jazz sat up, moving his fingers behind Prowl's, over panes and along seams, making Radiance shiver. ~I just thank Primus we were lucky enough to stumble into each other, past all the odds.~

Jazz smiled and shifted in behind Radiance, pressing flush against him, hands on hips and sliding pelvis against aft. ~All the rules of this world would have said this triad could never form,~ he said, and chuckled quietly. ~Showed them, I think.~

~Very much so,~ Prowl rumbled, hot and eager in response to Jazz's arousal. He offered up three images for them to consider, all of them positions they were eager for. ~So tell me, my loves, what appeals most?~

Radiance's entire frame gave a hard shiver when he saw and fixated on the first offered image, to the engine revving approval from his mates. The idea of both of them being inside him was intoxicating. 

Jazz slid his hand down between their dark lover's legs, rubbing his fingers over the valve cover. ~Sure you can stretch like that?~ he purred. ~We don't want to hurt you.~

~I've never tried,~ Radiance admitted, the cover snapping open as he pressed into the touch. ~I trust you both.~

Prowl's ventilations picked up to the point where it was a solid motion of air. He leaned in to kiss Radiance hard as his fingers joined Jazz's in pressing into their lover. ~You are Praxian, built and sparked. You were designed to be with two. Relax, love, and let us indulge you. It is past time you were between us.~

Radiance nodded, giving himself up to their attention, whining just from the press of his mates' fingers inside him, feeling a surge of coding _bliss_ to bare himself to two. They moved carefully, slowly, playing their fingers off of each other to help stimulate and arouse, but not satisfy, not yet. 

Prowl drew out first, then Jazz, who reached around their lover to run his hand up along his neck, up to his chin and then his mouth, pressing lubricant-slick fingers against his lips, purring deeply when Radiance drew his glossa along them, licking with a low moan. Jazz nudged his hips forward, his spike already hard between their frames, lining Radiance up with Prowl first.

Without hesitation Prowl helped lift Radiance up, bracing him between their frames before sinking into that welcoming valve with a long, single stroke that ended as he pulled back out and stopped with the tip of his spike just inside the rim.

Radiance's field flared with warm, welcome acceptance, and burned brighter with anticipation when Jazz rubbed his spike against him. 

"Forward," Jazz murmured, guiding Radiance to lean further over Prowl, running his fingers down his back as he complied. Jazz shifted back and settled his hands on Radiance's hips, enjoying the view of his lovers' frames joined together for a moment before he nudged his spike up against Prowl's, then pushed, slowly, patient with the resistance but unrelenting with his pressure until without warning, he slipped in. 

Radiance gasped and then moaned, unaccustomed to the stretch but reveling in the act of being joined with his triad like this. 

"All right?" Jazz murmured, running soothing hands over hips and aft, though there was no hiding the strain in his voice from the effort it was taking to hold there.

"Yes!" Radiance keened, expressing the pleasure that was this stretch and fullness he'd never felt before.

~Amazing, isn't it?~ Prowl moaned across the hardline, his frame quivering with the effort to be still. ~How good the ache feels.~

Radiance managed some semblance of affirmative, which was all Jazz needed to grip the dark frame and rock forward, tossing his head back and shuddering as he sank in, feeling the texture of Prowl's spike and the gripping, quivering lining of Radiance's valve all at once. "Radiance!" he gasped, as between them, Radiance cried out, gripping Prowl's frame for stability.

"Loves. Radiance, Saxo." ~Jazz,~ Prowl moaned, trembling as hard as any of them. He kissed Radiance feverishly as he rocked down, pulling out while Jazz remained, then pressing in as Jazz pulled out. ~So good. So perfect. Thank you.~

~Love you,~ Radiance moaned, bliss flooding the hardline as all three of them felt the combined sensations coming from the other two, sliding easily together, slick and charged. ~ _Primus!_ ~ he cried, almost sobbing from ecstasy. ~Primus blessed!~

Jazz shuddered and rocked, trying to keep his pace steady with the other two, struggling not to let go and just _drive_ until they were all screaming. ~Prowl,~ he moaned, feeling an overjoyed surge to be able to finally, _finally_ use his love's designation, not to have to hide it from their mate any longer. ~He's ours, _ours_ to have and love, Radiance, ours!~

~Yes. Triad. We are triad.~ Prowl replied, shuddering. His next thrust was faster, deeper, as he picked up on Jazz's desires and knowing that they matched all around. ~We are mates, all of us.~

Radiance's engines whined with need as the speed increased. ~All of us,~ he echoed, moaning, caught between the other two, subject to their pace and desire, trapped until they decided to release him from the tormenting bliss that this union was. ~Faster, take me, take me!~

~As you desire,~ Prowl moaned and obeyed, his spark and core code rewarding him with deep pleasure at obeying that was evident in every electron that passed between them. A joyful submission to another out of love and devotion was Prowl's offering. An offering that Radiance and Jazz both accepted with a matching pleasure at making him so happy.

The bliss of that gift flowed between them and claimed what little self-control any of them might have still possessed, pushing them to incoherent movement and ecstasy. Rocking together, panting, stroking, kissing, claiming, it took little, _so_ little for the triad to push themselves to the brink after that, not even a full groon. 

Jazz lost himself first, the youngest, the least able to fully control his rising pleasure, and he shouted in warning just moments before overload crashed through him and his hips bucked forward involuntarily, breaking the rhythm they'd set between them, shooting into the tight heat of Radiance's valve and mixing charged transfluid with lubricant, his pleasure rushing over the hardline into the other two.

It was all either of the Praxians could take, not that either were inclined to resist. Prowl's roar echoed through the room as his hips drove up, adding his crackling transfluid into the mix and his overload bliss, as much emotional as physical, rushing into his lovers across the hardline. 

Radiance screamed and seized between them, caught and surrounded by the crashing waves that rushed over, around, through. His fingers gripped tight enough to dent, with no awareness of his frame outside the absolute, unbelievable ecstasy that went spark-deep in a way he'd never thought possible. 

When he finally came out of the white-out daze, vision flickering and vocalizer crackling with the leftover static, he couldn't do anything more than sob his joy against Prowl, overwhelmed with the perfection of a triad completed. 

Behind him, he was dimly aware of Jazz moving and then pulling out, moving up. "Know his spark," his lover's voice murmured, low and eager.

"Are you sure?" Prowl asked, looking at his first mate.

Jazz nodded. ~I'll feel it through the hardline, be part of it that way.~

~Join us, open your chest,~ Prowl cooed. ~We may not be able to merge, but you can feel our sparks on your circuits.~

Jazz nodded with a shudder of _want_ and shifted to stretch out next to the other two, armor latches clicking open, plating moving back, and exposed the black crystal that surrounded his spark chamber and the warm blue spark caged by it.

Radiance recovered enough of himself in the pause to gasp when he saw it, and reached out, fingers hovering over the cage. ~May I touch?~

~Of course you can,~ Jazz said. ~I don't feel anything from the blocker, though.~

Radiance stroked over the complicated latticework. ~Your chamber can still open?~

Jazz tilted his head in affirmative and spiraled the center iris open in answer. Immediately blue leaders reached out, only to dissipate at the blocker, if they weren't turned back.

~It is beautiful, isn't it?~ Prowl rumbled in unabashed desire as he reached to stroke the crystal chamber where it was accessible. ~The chamber is so sensitive, and his spark loves to play with fingers.~

Jazz groaned, then _shook_ as Radiance's fingers followed Prowl's lead and slipped beneath the blocker, his spark eagerly sending out seeking tendrils to know the new touch of this mate. ~Wasn't...going to tell him that yet,~ he managed, voice cracking with static even over the hardline. ~I'll overload again if you keep that up!~ he gasped when Prowl moved his fingers into the spark energy alongside Radiance.

~And this is a bad thing, how?~ Prowl's tone was full of lust that had nothing to do with physical desire. ~You are so amazing in pleasure. We'll wait for you to recover before we explore our sparks.~

~So vibrant,~ Radiance whispered, knowing with even just this small touch that he wasn't going to stop working until he could fully have his lover's spark, and Jazz's overbright, pleasure-hazed optics found the golden visor, lost in it.

He whined softly, overwhelmed and with fans straining at full speed to keep up with the pleasure-hot systems. Vents became staggered and his spark surged and pulsed, pushing against the constraints, touching as much of its lovers as it could. Very carefully, Radiance lifted himself up and guided Jazz fully onto his back, moving the quivering frame as slowly as he could, shifting over him, leaving room for Prowl to claim him in a kiss. 

Their fingers swirled, touched, crooked, and the rapidly building charge _snapped_ and Jazz sobbed his bliss, spark energy swirling and crashing against the barrier, an overload that left him panting and trembling and barely holding onto his senses when it crackled out.

~Amazing,~ Radiance's whisper was the first thing that penetrated Jazz's consciousness as he came around enough. 

~I know. That is what I have been bound to for as long as it has existed.~ Despite the servitude of the words and tone, across the hardline there was no questioning that it made Prowl's very spark sing to say it. ~One orn, his spark will be free again.~

~And it will join yours,~ Jazz finally managed, shaking off the daze. ~Form the bonds that always should have been.~ He pushed himself up, iris spiraled shut again, but chest remaining open, and pressed a kiss against Prowl's mouth. ~Know each other, let me witness.~

~Yes, my love,~ Prowl responded to them both, kissing Jazz before turning to spread his chest plates open, bathing them in the pale blue light of his spark, offering himself without reservation to the mechs he had claimed as triad. ~Radiance, be one with me.~

Jazz purred at the familiar sight, stretching out on his side and resting his head on Prowl's shoulder, leaving one hand free to touch and stroke, while Radiance moved over their lover, dark fingers hovering over the offered chamber, optics bright with awe. 

~Gladly, willingly,~ Radiance whispered, chest armor unlocking and retracting, pulling away to reveal rich, golden light and a bright, shimmering crystal chamber and spark, one that was already pulsing to push forward and feel the touch of the other. 

~Prowl,~ Jazz gasped in awe, unable to keep himself from reaching forward towards the light as they looked at their mate together.

~Exquisite,~ Prowl shivered as he looked at the spark. Suddenly his vents caught and he reached up to hold Radiance at his shoulders, keeping him away. ~Oh lover, such a strong spark. Please, don't agree to kindle. Not this time.~

Flickers of curiosity were met with the simple truth that for Prowl, a spark merge meant he was being bred. It had not been since his first lover that he'd merged for pleasure, and even that had not been often.

~Not this time,~ Radiance agreed easily with the experience of one who had only ever merged for pleasure. ~Or even soon. I'm not ready for that. _We're_ not ready for that.~ He looked to Jazz. ~When we kindle, it will be all of us, and all of us will want it, and not until.~

Prowl nodded, relief clear in his field and hardline. His grip eased on Radiance, shifting to allow him to control the merge that Prowl wanted just as badly.

Radiance took a slow, deep intake, working to steady himself as much as he could, before lowering down, the first seeking tendrils of light creeping forward to brush against their mirrors from Prowl's, the lights twirling and playing together, eager to touch, to feel, to _be_ together. 

The closer he sank, the more feeders came out, each one finding another and twisting together, drawing the sparks closer. It took all Radiance's control to keep himself as far away as he was, pausing once he was on his elbows, a hand's width separating their open chests. 

"Want--want to feel this as just you," Radiance managed, reaching to unhook the hardline between them, leaving them each connected to Jazz but not to each other. Once the cable was tucked away, he released the fraying control he had over his spark and it surged forward, faster than intended, pressing against Prowl as Radiance sank down fully, crying out. Under him Prowl arched into the contact, willing and eager, but also a conditioned response. Radiance caught how easily Prowl accepted the rushed final stage, welcoming him, offering to carry his creation with an honest desire.

~No, my love, that would not do for us right now,~ he whispered. ~Some orn, you will be our Vision, we will fill you with life, but not this orn. Want your pleasure, want to _know_ you, nothing more.~

The ice blue spark gave a flicker of confusion before embracing the declaration just as willingly. Prowl shivered and cautiously opened himself a bit more, uncertain with this kind of merge but willing, so very willing to learn. Prowl shivered and moaned, his frame on fire from the spark-on-spark contact.

Radiance moaned in turn, opening himself fully, inviting the naturally curious essence he had come to love so much to explore his very being. Distantly, he heard his armor locking as safety protocols engaged, could feel a hand stroking up and down along burning hot plating, but the presence before him was _enthralling_ in every way possible, a spark he wanted both to own and be owned by, to love, to live, to _be_ with. ~Prowl,~ he whispered, sang, _feeling_ the glyph of his lover's designation echoed all around him. 

~Radiance,~ came the reply. Sung in a rougher voice, but with no less absolute devotion. ~Yours. Mine. His. We.~

More slowly Prowl opened up, offering himself as his essence swirled around Radiance. Despite the intense subservience bred into his spark, there was a predator there too, deep and quiet, roused only to protect itself and its wards. Radiance recognized it instantly from the memories. That predator was what Vortex had faced and failed against. It knew how to consume and command, yet like the upper levels, it was also content to remain within its domain, only rising when it was challenged by one without the authority to do so. It was a predator that Radiance both respected and was humbled by, and once he realized that this was the part of Prowl that had deemed him trustworthy, his spark pulsed with joy and gratitude. 

His own spark felt shallow compared to that depth for a moment, until Prowl moved forward, touching every part of him, glimpsing everything he was. Predator and servant twined with him, purring, proud and deeply honored to be his. His spark was investigated, every corner of it mingling with Prowl as it was met with approval.

Prowl's memories opened up to him, the older ones from his youth. Formative vorns and moments that shaped him into the mech he was now. His first interface, being taken by a group of young nobles. The acceptance that this was within their rights and thus nothing to object to. His first love, a mech Radiance had only heard a bit about before now had a face and frame to go with that designation. Gentle touches, gentle words, but the moment that stood out for Radiance had been one of limited importance to Prowl. One of the first things Susurrus had told the young seneschal in training.

"Then this will be your first lesson. We are created, thus we must end. If you love, the last memory you will have is pain."

Prowl had only understood in an abstract way then. He knew about death, knew that lives began and ended, but he had not yet lost one he cared about. Susurrus left him with good memories, and left him with a deep, numbing pain that had lasted for centuries before it finally leveled out and Prowl looked at others as potential berthmates, but never another lover. He wasn't avoiding pain. Even then he had little care about it. Not even his own creations, three of them, could muster any emotions from him while they were inside him and he nurtured them. He simply did not have the fire needed to _love_ again until he saw the newly separated Lord Jazz.

Radiance smiled through their joined awareness, grateful for the gift he was being given, and offered much the same in return, a life so different from the one Prowl had known as to be almost impossible to imagine, showing the experiences of a sparkling with no directive coding, built to be _free_ , even from what his creators had chosen. 

Prowl saw joy and love and excitement for the mystery of the future, first in an adventurous youngling and then in an enthusiastic mechling who gave everything he was to a first lover, a schoolmate who hadn't given anything in return and had left Radiance confused and broken, a first lesson but not enough of a deterrent to stop the same from happening again and again throughout the mech's life. 

Radiance gave all of himself to a lover, even when he knew it wasn't going to be returned. He was beautiful, and he knew that, and had been seriously courted more than once over the centuries, only for his partners to lose patience with his work. One mech, Nimbus, had enthralled him, and Radiance had courted him instead, almost tearing himself in two in order to please his partner and do the work he loved so much, but in the end, that lover, too, had left. 

~Never again. Never again will you give to have nothing given back. Never again will you be turned away from because you love your work,~ Prowl promised with his entire spark, a trait he shared with Radiance. He gave his all when he gave, and did so without shame or regret. Only Prowl gave rarely, guarding himself well until his spark had enough of it and found love again. ~We are triad, my love. We three are balance.~

The glyphs, spoken spark to spark, made Radiance's spark swell as he shared a final bit of memory. The last thing he'd expected that orn, going upstairs to meet a pair of sparklings after refusing courtship after courtship with no plans to try again, was to walk right into a captivating, bright, mated pair, and be unable to walk away ever again.

~You are the bright one,~ Prowl wrapped Radiance spark with his own, joyful, honored and humbled to be found worthy. ~Unscarred, unbroken, still as you were meant to be. You remind us that there is something beyond survival, that hope should be held onto not as a leash but as a gift.~

~You show me that there is strength, and goodness, that can overcome the darkest Pits, that being hurt does not mean being broken, that it is still possible to find love in this world,~ Radiance's spark whispered back, swirling around Prowl's, touching the scars and accepting them, seeing that they had made this spark stronger. ~You've shown me there is a reason to hope for the future, to keep giving.~

~Love you.~ Prowl shivered, losing his grip on keeping the merge steady enough to converse. It felt so good to simply sink into and abandon himself within.

~Let go, love, my love, our Jazz wants us to take this joy in each other,~ Radiance trilled, singing his bliss in the golden light, painting the taste of ecstasy where it met with bright, pale blue. ~ _I love you!_ ~ he cried, ancient glyphs known spark-deep, given only to triad, only to mate, and light consumed them as they both surrendered to ecstasy that was a merge with a mecha you loved.

Both their frames were trembling, shivering with the fading sensations as their sparks pulled apart, retreating to their respective homes reluctantly after a taste of what could be, would be when _he_ was no more.

Jazz was shivering next to them, pressed alongside Prowl, panting from the overload that had been triggered by the dual surge of spark energy from his mates' chests washing through his own systems. ~Some orn,~ he whispered. ~Thank you for letting me witness and feel.~

Radiance came back to himself enough to nod, and lifted himself just enough for chest armor to close before collapsing back down on top of Prowl. ~Anything,~ he murmured, exhausted. ~How much could you...~

~A little, I think,~ Jazz said. ~I could hear you.~

Radiance just nodded again. "Triad," he murmured, snuggling against his lover's warm frame as all three settled in to cycle into much needed recharge.


	32. His Creator's Triad

Radiance watched from where he was reclining on the berth as Jazz came out of the washrack, shining after a polish rinse, and looked on with some bemusement as his mate started going over himself, examining down to the finest details of his armor. Prowl came upstairs a moment later and smiled when he saw their youngest mate. 

"I tried to tell him he really doesn't need to worry about his armor, but..." Radiance shrugged.

Jazz chuckled and lifted his doorwings up, looking at Prowl. "Help me? I'm not used to preparing these."

"Of course," Prowl said smoothly and gave Radiance a smile. "Your creators may not care, but _he_ does, and I understand the importance," Prowl flicked his own doorwings, drawing attention to the fact that he'd taken much more time than usual with his own finish.

"They're just my creators," Radiance said, but wasn't hiding that he appreciated the results, no matter what the reason for it. He looked down at himself, glancing over his own utilitarian finish. "Maybe I should wash."

"You have time," Prowl told him. "We are going to meet the creators of our triad-mate for the first time. There will never be a more important encounter between us, love. Even if we can not admit what we are in public, _we_ know, and we would make the best impression on them possible."

"Perfect finish, proper manners, gifts and all," Jazz said firmly, a level of determination that was rarely displayed. "I do not care if they even understand the gestures. It is important to make them."

"Some things are simply going to be how they are done, how they have always been done, in the place that raised us," Prowl added, somber in tone but excited in field. He very much enjoyed seeing Jazz like this, excited to socialize and getting to show off a little of what he'd been bred to be.

Radiance hummed, stretched, and stood. "Since I feel like I need to be clean before I can even touch either of you without ruining your finish," he chuckled, and started for the washrack, then paused when Jazz crooked a finger at him, drawing him over. 

"Kiss, lover," he purred, field humming in honest anticipation of getting to meet his mate's creators. 

Radiance gladly obliged him, then straightened to claim a kiss from Prowl that came with a hand cupping the back of his neck to hold him there a bit longer in the flare of arousal, desire and nervous excitement.

"Should have seen me when I had gold inlaid in my armor," Jazz hummed, holding his arm out and examining his fingers. 

"I prefer the doorwings," Radiance told him, nuzzling. 

"One orn they will see both, the best of your original frame and this one," Prowl rumbled, anticipating that orn very much.

"Is there anything I should know, how to act?" Radiance asked as it really began to sink in just how close this came to a ritual for his lovers.

"You should act how you always act around us," Jazz said. "The point is for them to see how and why I--we--are a good match for you, and why they should accept a contract between us." He paused. "Or, well, why they should approve, in this instance." 

"Don't worry, they're going to approve," Radiance said, and almost grimaced when he remembered the excitement that had greeted his casual mention that he would be bringing the lovers he'd told them about some 70 vorns prior over for them to meet, even though it was still more than two decades from being able to admit to anything in public.

"And we will keep glyphs such as contract out of the conversation," Prowl added. "Get yourself cleaned up and we'll polish you to a suitable shine to show off our care of you."

Radiance cocked his head, not having thought of it like that before. "It's demonstrating why you are the best choice, why they should give their creation away to you." 

"Yes," Jazz affirmed. "Normally a first creation would be the one bargaining for a second, putting in credit offers while also winning the approval of both creators and creation. Each family decides differently, some place more value in the net credit gain, others take a creation's satisfaction with a choice more seriously." He reached a hand up to cover Prowl's. "Since your creators won't be wanting credits for you, we need to show that we increase the quality of your life." 

"That will be no trouble to show," Radiance said, kissed him once more, and then left them to wash as quickly as he could before sitting for his mates to polish him thoroughly, getting each of them pounced before it was all over. 

When they finally left, still with enough time to spare that Radiance suspected Prowl had actually planned to have enough time for the impromptu tumble into their berth and the following cleaning and repolishing, his armor was gleaming and perfect. 

"Well, here we are," Radiance said as he transformed in front of the complex his creators called home. It was nicer than the one that Jazz and Prowl had originally lived in, but nothing compared to where they lived now thanks to Prowl's skill at investments. Both Prowl and Radiance had already grown accustomed to the intense audits of their finances since the couple was living so clearly outside their income and Radiance because of his close association with them. A small grin crossed Radiance's features remembering the first time he'd seen the auditor's face at Prowl's easy presentation of the finances, accounting for every credit and every credit originating clearly within his income. It baffled the auditor to see such good records and even though it created more suspicion to have it that flawless, it tapered off quickly when they began to investigate the rest of Prowl's existence and found that everything he did was to that exacting standard.

Jazz gave a nervous trill, soothed by a low rumble from Prowl, and settled himself into character. It wasn't much of an act, but the playful, lust-driven youth Radiance knew so well took a back seat to the more serious, poised and presentable adult he also was.

"You two are going to make _me_ nervous," Radiance teased, chiming, bracing himself for the inevitable chastising, but before it could come, the door opened and a femme in Enforcer markings with bright blue optics and pastel trimming bounded out, trilling happily and pulling Radiance into a tight hug. 

"Hello, sweetspark," she said, then pulled back to look at him, gasping happily. "You look beautiful!" Behind her, two other Praxians looked out the door.

"Someone did some good work on your finish," the other femme, black with gold and red trim and matching Enforcer markings to the one clinging to Radiance, observed. "Come in and introduced them."

"Hello, Radiance," said the third, giving his creation a warm smile as everyone entered, Jazz and Prowl walking at the back of the group. He gave his creation a one-armed hug, then glanced back at the newcomers. "It took you long enough to get them here," he teased gently. 

"I had to be sure Brava wouldn't scare them away," Radiance teased back as they all entered the building and took a lift up to the apartment home he'd been raised in.

They entered a sitting room and the first femme came up, beaming. "I'm so glad you could both make it," she said, looking between them. "Believe me when I say I know the nightmare that scheduling around your work can be." 

"Saxo, Pantera, this is Mira," Radiance said, gesturing to each of his mates as he named them, introducing them in turn. 

"It is a pleasure," Jazz said warmly, and then looked to the other two creators. "You must be Contact and Brava," he said, identifying them correctly.

The black femme nodded with a bit of a huff, and Mira simply beamed and fussed until everyone sat down, each triad on a sofa designed for three. Light high grade and confections were passed around, the first course of many that Mira and Contact had spent orns putting together.

"I understand you've done very well investing." Brava's gaze locked onto Prowl. "More than well enough you'd be better off investing than working."

"If credits were my focus, it is true," Prowl consented smoothly. "I am not an Enforcer for the paycheck. It suits me too well to give up."

"Don't interrogate the mech," Contact said, smiling fondly, then caught Mira's hand as she started to rise to get another plate. "Sit down and relax," he trilled to her. 

"I'll just be right back," she insisted. 

"Mira," Radiance said, standing. "What do you want me to get?" 

"There's a refill for the silver spread," she said, relaxing against Brava. "Thank you!" she called after him as he disappeared, then looked back to Jazz. "Radiance tells us you aren't Praxian, do you like it here?" 

"I love everything about Praxus," Jazz said, and grinned. "Especially the mecha. Your creation is one of the loveliest I've ever met." 

"We are very proud of him," Contact said, while Mira smiled brightly. 

"You have every reason to be," Prowl spoke with the honesty of holding the opinion true. "He is an excellent officer and a very good example of the best in a mecha. You raised him well."

" _You_ are flattering me," Radiance said, reappearing and setting the bowl down where they could all reach, then sat back down between his mates. "Stop that, it's my turn to show you off for a while, they already know about me." He slipped an arm around Prowl's waist. "He gets regularly audited because of his investment success," he said proudly. "And Saxo is one of the youngest agents in all of ISO." 

"You enjoy that work?" Contact asked Jazz. 

Jazz nodded, leaning forward slightly. "I'm good at it, and I've never hidden what I do from Pantera or Radiance."

"Never needed to," Radiance nuzzled him, earning a low purr from Jazz and an indulgently pleased smile from Prowl.

"So will there be a triad ceremony in our near future?" Brava asked bluntly after a moment.

"As soon as it is socially acceptable," Prowl nodded, going as serious as she had. "We're only standing on formalities at this point."

Brava raised an optic ridge. "Only on formalities?" 

"We are not bonded yet," Prowl corrected himself.

Mira gasped excitedly, and only Contact's arm around her kept her from bouncing up to her pedes. 

"Radiance," Contact chastised. "I distinctly remember telling you to keep us all updated, and believe I remember you saying you would." 

"I intended to," Radiance said, looking properly apologetic, then leaned over to nuzzle Prowl. "We really were intending to take our time, but...well. That didn't go exactly as planned." 

"Sometimes things happen when they are ready, rather when society or you are," Prowl leaned into the contact. "I expect he wanted you to meet us first."

"I would hope so," Contact said, giving his creation a fond look. 

"Absolutely," Radiance promised them. 

"And he looks very well, I have you both to thank for that, I believe," the dispatcher added. "I haven't seen him smiling this much in centuries." 

"A crime that was to be rectified as soon as possible," Jazz said. "We plan to spend the rest of our lives making him smile." 

"Well, not _all_ of it," Prowl rumbled with a look for Radiance that left no doubt as to what he meant.

Brava smirked. "Good."

"Though he's usually smiling when we're done with him," Jazz purred, making their dark mate lift a hand to cover his smirk, his shoulders shaking in a chuckle.

"So when will there be little ones running around to spoil?" Mira asked excitedly.

"Not until we're ready," Jazz said, turning serious. "I'm going to be completely honest with you about who your creation has mated with, if he hasn't already told you."

"Your first sparklings," Contact said, nodding. "He's mentioned it." 

"We _do_ want creations," Jazz assured them. "But not yet, we all think it's best that I be older, likely much older, before that happens." 

Mira trilled. "It's always best to be ready for sparklings," she agreed with a nostalgic look for memories of when they'd first brought Radiance home.

"Agreed," Prowl nodded. "They deserve a stable triad who's ready to devote all the time and energy to them that they deserve."

"You've discussed it though?" Brava persisted.

"I want to carry again," Prowl answered her before she could even ask. "So at least the first will be kindled."

"I would love to kindle," Contact said wistfully, visor brightening. 

"Some orn, darling," Brava purred. "We'll get you good and sparked." 

Mira trilled brightly in agreement. "It's tricky with work schedules, I expect you've already realized that." 

"We're going to make sure we have the time to spend caring for him," Radiance said. "Finances won't be an issue. But that's so long from now, right now we're just looking forward to putting the courtship forms through." 

"It will not be soon enough for me," Prowl rumbled, his engine purring with anticipation. "I'm looking forward to when he can actually move in with us, instead of being a permanent guest." He leaned against his lover. "I'm still trying to convince them that taking a three century leave of absence isn't insane when we're ready for a creation."

"Three centuries," Contact said, both optics ridges raising as his wings perked. "That would be quite the dedicated undertaking." 

"It isn't as if we need the income, and what better a use of our time than to raise our creation?" Prowl purred, anticipating the event, even if he was the only one that took time off. "It is a long time from now, however."

"Pantera doesn't give himself halfway to anything," Radiance explained. "It's all or nothing." He smiled fondly at his mate. "In everything he does." 

"As long as that applies to Radiance as well, I think we will get along," Brava said, offering Prowl her first smile.

"I would love to see the rest of your home," Jazz said, judging the timing of Radiance's creators' high grade to voice that request, focusing specifically on Mira. "I know Radiance had to learn his sense of aesthetics from someone, judging from what I've seen so far it was definitely one of you."

Mira perked happily. "His place is gorgeous, isn't it?" She offered Jazz a wink. "I gave him a few pointers."

"It shows," Jazz purred, rising, holding a hand out for her. 

When they'd disappeared into the main hallway, Brava leaned forward and locked the remaining pair with her hardwired visor. "How stable is he, really?"

"Stable enough to do the Ops work," Radiance said, equally serious. "And you know the kind of standards they hold those mecha to. I won't lie, he wouldn't be okay without us, but unless the unthinkable happens, that's never going to be a problem. And that's the point of triad, isn't it?"

"It is," Brava nodded.

"Is he realistically going to be able to have another creation?" Contact asked softly. 

"Not soon," Prowl responded, voice low. "However in a millennia he will be three times his current age and what happened to him before we were together will be very long past. We hope that time and care will heal the damage done to him."

"And you?" the mech asked. "Radiance warned us it wasn't a good topic around Saxo, but how are you doing after what happened in Polyhex? I know I wouldn't have been okay if something happened to Radiance."

"I am coping. The active hunt may have ended for us, but we haven't stopped looking," Prowl said the truth smoothly woven with a lie so he wouldn't have to explain his fragged creator coding. "So no, I'm not okay, but I will be before Saxo is ready to try again."

"I know it hardly means anything to say, but I'm so sorry for what you've been through," Contact said, then noticeably forced himself to brighten. "But I'm sure that isn't what you want to talk about, and I want to hear about _you_. Tell me," he leaned forward, doorwings showing how excited he was, "Has the triad coding activated?"

"Vorns ago," Prowl smiled warmly and pressed against Radiance with unabashed pleasure. "It's strong and stable in all three of us now. Saxo choose to have it installed and has taken to it beautifully. I never believed anything could feel that good. I'm fairly sure I was delirious with it the first few orns."

"Possibly more than that," Radiance teased him, humming happily at the memories. 

"I remember those orns," Contact chuckled, looking at Brava, whose engines purred back to him. "At least, I have memories that I assume were during those orns, it got difficult to keep track of." 

"You are still planning to go through the full formal courting, though?" Brava questioned. 

"Absolutely," Radiance told her. "We always planned to do this the right way, it's just the order that's gotten a bit mixed up." 

"Though I admit it will make the courting much more pleasant with this order. We all know it is going to end well. Much less stressful and much more enjoyable for all of us," Prowl added with a bit of a dreamy look himself before he turned his helm to claim a strut-melting kiss from his newest mate. "We can all enjoy the courting fully."

Radiance's engines revved unabashedly as he pressed Prowl back, then pulled away, grinning, and then saw the knowing smirks on his creators' faces. "What?" he asked, laughing. "As if you three were never this bad." 

"Didn't say a thing," Contact chuckled. "I'm glad you won't have to go through the stress of a real courtship again," he added, turning serious. "It was hard to watch you going through those, sweet spark." 

Brava hummed in agreement, then turned all of her intense focus on Prowl. "Though let me make a few things clear to you," she began. 

"Brava," Radiance protested, then silenced after just one look from her. 

She held her creation with a stare until she was sure he wasn't going to interrupt before turning that look back on Prowl. "I'm sure you've realized that Radiance throws himself completely into everything he does, whether it deserves it or not," she said. "And in the past, others have not accepted this about him and expected him to be less than what he is for their pleasure. I'm telling you now, I will not tolerate that from anyone."

"I have realized and it is a trait that I admire a great deal. Absolute commitment is too rare these orns," Prowl met her gaze with his own, steady and level. "I _trust_ him, Brava. With Saxo, with my creations, with my spark. I have never left any mecha I loved enough to _trust_ and I never will." He paused, cycled a gust of air and gave her a slight smile. "You are a good creator for caring enough to challenge me. I love him _because_ of his commitment, not in spite of it. All three of us have functions that demand a great deal of our time and energy. We have found a balance and understanding of each other in it."

Brava tilted her head slightly, then nodded her satisfaction and settled back, Contact sliding an arm around her shoulders and giving her a lovingly exasperated look. 

"You were thinking it too," she told him, a little smugly. 

"I--well, I, yes," Contact admitted. "But I wasn't going to put it quite so..." He cleared his vocalizer out and leaned in to kiss his mate. "I do love you." 

Brava grinned against him before they both turned back to the pair sitting opposite. "You've spark merged, then?" Contact asked, voice soft. 

Radiance hummed in affirmative, armor rippling with pleasure in the memories.

"Several times now," Prowl nodded. "Always with the three of us."

"The most amazing feeling, isn't it?" Contact said, visor glowing warmly as he looked at his creation. "A triad merge." 

"It is," Radiance said, smiling just as warmly back. "I can see why you wanted me to find one." 

"And we're just so happy for you that you have," Contact said, trilling with real excitement for his creation. "All of us. And for you and Saxo," he added for Prowl. "You should hear Mira go on about it." 

"She is very excitable," Brava chuckled, then looked at Prowl. "So tell us what you did before you met Saxo. Radiance said you've traveled all over the planet? Investing?"

"Investments were something I did on my own. I was a personal assistant of sorts. I organized events, personnel management, ensured my employers did not have to concern themselves with whatever I was charged with overseeing," Prowl nodded. "It was good, until I made the wrong enemies and had to find a new existence. Though that lead me to Saxo, and then Radiance, so I can't really complain about bad luck."

"I would hope not," Brava said, then both she and Contact looked up as the sound of laughter echoed in from the main hallway moments before Jazz and Mira came back in, both of them grinning. 

"Radiance!" Mira said. "I demand to know why you haven't brought your mates home until now!" 

"Weren't you _just_ saying that you know what it's like trying to plan around Enforcer schedules?" Radiance countered. "It's hard enough getting part of an orn together, much less trying to match up with you three." 

"Less time 'facing, more time visiting," she grinned at him, as Jazz unsuccessfully held a hand up to hide his own grin behind her. "Your mate is charming." 

"He is also ours," Radiance rumbled, but the tone was playful. "You can't have him no matter how charming he is."

Jazz flashed him a grin to rival Mira's. "There's enough to share." 

"You'd know that better than anyone," Mira teased, and Radiance could only chuckle and nod.

"You seriously want me to try to tell _him_ we're going to 'face less?" Prowl raised an optic ridge at her, both serious and teasing all at once. "You only find him charming because he's well-satisfied."

"I can be sociable when I'm not well-satisfied," Jazz said, mock-insulted as he sat back down next to Radiance. 

"Mira, darling, you remember what it's like being a new triad," Contact chuckled, welcoming his mate back next to him with a fond nuzzle. 

"And you are the _least_ sociable creature I have ever met when you're not well-satisfied," Radiance told Jazz, who just grinned and pulled him into a kiss. 

"Your creator was telling me about you stealing the neighbor's cybercat when you were a sparkling and trying to hide it under your berth," Jazz said, and gave his mate a positively wicked look. 

"Primus, Mira, you did _not_ \--" Radiance said, as his creators all started grinning. 

"Oh, and he tried to convince us he was the one making those sounds!" Brava said, laughing. 

"Whatever prompted such illegal behavior?" Prowl tried to keep a straight face and failed miserably.

Radiance huffed. "They told me I could see their cybercat anytime I wanted, which _I_ still think counts as a blank offer to bring it home with me, because how else was I supposed to see it anytime I wanted? What if they hadn't been at home and I wanted to visit? It was a logical answer." 

Mira giggled. "Only, poor thing, he was scared to get in trouble once we asked him if he knew anything..." 

"I was _going_ to return it," Radiance said. "It just started _yowling_ on me!"

"So which one did you inherit the love of critters from?" Jazz managed between giggles.

Brava and Contact both looked directly at Mira.

"What?" Mira gasped with playful indignation. "I've only brought home a few..." 

"Dozen," Brava filled in. 

"We had to make a rule about bringing home strays," Contact added for Jazz and Prowl. 

"You don't have any right now?" Radiance asked, looking around like he'd suddenly realized there was something missing. 

"I found a home for the last one a few metacycles ago," Mira said proudly. 

"Do you have any other good sparkling stories?" Jazz asked.

"Well, there was his first encounter with racing," Brava chuckled, grinning when her creation groaned. "Two metacycles into his mechling upgrades he decided he was ready for the mech tracks, rules or no rules."

"And how did that go?" Jazz asked her, ignoring the sideways shove he got from his mate. 

"I made very good friends with some of the other creators while they were sorting the mess out," Mira said brightly. 

"Darling, you make friends with everyone," Contact said.

"I crashed, okay?" Radiance groaned at the memory of it. "I got in the track, got in a race, and proceeded to create a pile-up. It was only when the medics were untangling everyone that they worked out I was still a dependent and called my creators. You have _no_ idea the kind of scene three Enforcers make when they think their only creation is about to deactivate."

"You've gotten much better," Prowl cooed.

"Got blacklisted from every track in Praxus for two centuries," Radiance muttered.

"Oh, or there's the time in school when he decided he needed to be the one making sure that everyone followed all the rules," Mira giggled. 

"The instructors were not doing a good job of it on their own," Radiance pointed out, holding his hand over his face, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there. 

"I couldn't laugh too much, he got a little scuffed up for it," Contact said, but he was still chuckling. 

"I could," Brava snickered. "He was being a bossy little thing, I woulda beat 'im up too." 

"Brava!" Mira and Radiance gasped. 

"He never stopped wanting to make sure everyone was following the rules," Jazz said fondly.

After that, Radiance banned the further telling of stories from his youth, Jazz promised to drop by sometime to hear them without his stuffy mates, Mira brought out the main dinner course, and the two triads relaxed into easy, amiable conversation until it got late enough that everyone agreed it was time to call it a night, and Radiance agreed to bring his triad back soon. 

On the way to the door, as everyone gathered to say goodbye, Radiance slipped a hand onto the small of Jazz's back and faced his creators. "So you approve?" he asked.

"Yes," Mira said brightly, while Contact nodded.

"You're good enough. Just stay that way," Brava said sternly.

"We will," Prowl promised in reply, his field brightening with pleasure at the approval, even though he wasn't the one that needed to hear it the most.

Jazz all but trilled his happiness to have succeeded in gaining his mate's creators' favor, doorwings lifting in pleasure and flickering gratitude into his field where it was pressed against Radiance's. He thanked Mira and Contact for the dinner, all three of them for opening up their home, and promised once more that he would visit soon. 

The door closed and the triad started walking to the road, Jazz leaning blissfully against his mate, purring and with an overcharged buzz. "I like your creators."

"As do I," Prowl leaned in from the other side. "They are good mecha."

"I'm glad," Radiance said honestly, smiling through his field. "And they liked you. I know they'll be happy to see you whenever you visit. Are you good to drive?" he teased Jazz. "Or do I need to call for an escort?"

"Like you? Lover, if you're worried, you could always overload me a few times, that would clear it out," Jazz purred, then straightened and spoke more seriously. "But I am good to drive."

"How much trouble can he get into between us?" Prowl purred, trapping Jazz between their frames and stilling them all for a moment. "If he starts to weave, we'll just get a room for a few joors to burn off the extra."

"I am not going to start to weave," Jazz said, rolling his optics. 

"I think we will decide that," Radiance said, nipping at Jazz's neck as he and Prowl moved in around him. 

"I want you two in _our_ berth," Jazz said. "Don't you dare think about stopping along the way." He rubbed his hips against both of them. "I just got my mate's creators' approval, I want to celebrate properly." 

"As do we," Prowl promised as he stepped into the transformation lane and led his mates home. 


	33. Courting in Praxus: Giving Gifts

A century to the orn after he claimed to have bonded with Jazz, Prowl walked into the precinct bullpen and paused, catching far too many quivering doorwings and officers than should have been there, all pretending to work. It was Mortar that kept his attention the longest, and Prowl gave him a look that bordered on demanding. Mortar pretended to look affronted and innocent at the same time, a mixture of expressions that left the large Praxian simply looking like he was trying not to laugh. "What?" he rumbled. "I enjoy a change of scenery as much as the next mech."

"Right," Prowl gave him one last penetrating look before moving on to his desk and the absolutely _fluttering_ doorwings of his partner. "Fevor. Explain," he demanded evenly as he sat down and began to take an inventory of his desk, immediately spotting the out of place object.

It was perfectly centered, equidistant to the micron from either side, a metallic dodecahedron with etchings and glyphs covering every surface, and several lines of a poem written on the top surface, with more on the sides.

It was a classic love song, one that Radiance had a particular fondness of, but it was completely out of order. On pure instinct Prowl began to move the slides of metal so the poem could be read correctly.

"That was here when I got here," Fevor said, nodding towards Prowl's hands as everyone else stopped the pretense of trying not to stare, and Mortar even took a few steps closer to look over Prowl's shoulder. 

"Night shift says they swear they didn't see anyone in here," the precinct chief commented, leaning in. "What's it do?"

"If it is what it appears to be, it is a written puzzle box. Once the lines are in order, it will open to display what is inside," Prowl explained with a tone just shy of mushy.

"D'you know who it's from?" one of the newest Enforcers, a young mech who wasn't familiar with all of the force yet, asked excitedly. "It's a gift, right?"

"A courting gift," Prowl confirmed, his doorwings giving a genuine flutter of pleasure as the box unfolded, then refolded so the poem was still on display while exposing the small holo-display inside. It lit up with the most artistic representation of Pantera's designation-glyph that Prowl had ever seen, entwined with glyphs of admiration, attraction, desire and many more.

Mortar's engines gave a pleased rumble. "Admirable," he decided. "That is good craftsmanship." 

Fevor grinned at his partner from across their shared workspace. "Finally," he said, to chuckles of agreement all over the room. "Anything else with it?"

"No, no indication of who it is from," Prowl managed to keep a straight face. "Someone is trying to get my attention, and has succeeded." He shifted the object towards the middle of the desk between him and his partner where it was the least in the way of their work, but still easily visible and pointedly on display, indicating his acceptance of further courting gifts.

Mortar clapped Prowl on the shoulder, shaking him a little. " _Someone_ is going to be a very happy mech to see that," he said, then, chuckling, left to get back to his own work. 

Fevor was giving Prowl a knowing look as he settled in to start on reviewing the overnight reports that had been left on his desk. "So you're all finally getting around to doing this properly?"

"This is the first orn we are available for it," Prowl reminded him as he began to read the pre-patrol reports. "I've been bonded to Saxo one hundred vorns to the orn."

"Wonder what Saxo'll get," Fevor mused, then settled in to reluctantly start on his own pile of reports. 

* * *

Jazz walked into the main hub of the Praxus ISO facility to get his assignments, then stopped and raised an optic ridge when he found Whiplash inside waiting for him. His commander usually didn't show up at the start of an orn like this. "Hello," he greeted mildly.

The small, lithe black mech huffed at him and held out the datapad with his schedule. "Good morning to you too. You're on rooms 29, 50, and 52. Get an answer from 29 or leave him alive, be gentle to 50 but scare the coolant out of him, and for 52 I don't care what you do, just have fun." 

Jazz gave his commander an odd look, not for the orders, but the delivery. It wasn't normal and he had learned well to be wary of things that weren't normal.

"Then there is _that_ ," Whiplash jabbed a finger at the flat box on the desk about half of Jazz's arm length to each side but not even a palm with tall. 

Jazz cocked his head at it with a curious trill, lifting it and finding it much lighter than expected for the size. He slid the lid away and then optics brightened when he saw the contents. 

A dark, shining whip, the same shade as one of his mates' plating, was laid out diagonally, its multiple tassels spread out in a pattern, with shining diamond flecks that looked razor sharp inlaid into the bands and gold wire forming intricate patterns on the handle. Jazz lifted it, engines purring, and realized that _Saxo_ had been written in formal glyphwork around the base. 

He turned and snapped, a quick test that revealed the balance, strength, and quality of the material, and his optics _shone_ as he turned back, grinning. "I think I'll enjoy breaking this in." 

Whiplash groaned and rolled his optics. "Just get going, and for Primus's sake, try not to _flutter_ like that when you're working. _No one_ will be frightened by _that_ look."

Jazz just answered with a deliriously happy grin and nod before turning and all but dancing his way out, purring the entire time.

* * *

For the first time in a long time, all three were in a hurry to get home, and Jazz made a point to take a break for the night early enough to be clean and home in time to jump Radiance and thank him, even if they couldn't admit, even between themselves, that they knew exactly who had gifted them the courtship presents and exactly how well they had been received.

"You look like you had a very good orn," Radiance laughed when he found himself with a lapful of purring mech, once Jazz had found them upstairs in the oil pool. 

"Might have," Jazz said, grinning, nipping at his lover's lower lip. "Got to break in the prettiest whip today, handled like a dream."

Deep, powerful engines rumbled with pleasure. "No wonder you're in such a good mood," Radiance said, as Prowl moved to press behind Jazz, sandwiching him between their frames. 

"So do you want to suggest the activity, or listen to what I thought of?" Prowl purred next to his audial.

Jazz hummed through the deep kiss that Radiance had pulled him into. "Who says we can't do both in a night?" he asked once he was released, and turned his head to claim another kiss from Prowl, enjoying the way the sight made Radiance _rev_ beneath him. "Tell us your idea." 

"You on your back with me between your legs and your glossa pleasuring Radiance while he and I merge, all while hardlined," Prowl didn't hide how hot the idea made him, and the simultaneous engine roars he got in response told him his lovers enjoyed that plan just as much as he did.

"Though that would require moving," Jazz said, completely comfortable and enjoying his spread-legged position in Radiance's lap. 

"That's true," Radiance agreed seriously. "I wouldn't want you to have to move if it was an inconvenience. So _you_ ," he wrapped his arms around Jazz's waist, lifted, moved him to the side, and stood up, "Can stay here as long as you feel like." He kissed the top of his mate's helm. "We will enjoy ourselves in berth." 

Jazz just rolled his optics. "Oh, someone thinks he's a clever one," he teased, standing.

"Someone does," Radiance purred. "Especially since it seems to be working." 

"Maybe I felt like moving anyway," Jazz hummed back, stretching, doorwings fluttering out with excitement, both from the events of the day and everything they were looking forward to for the night. The flare of Prowl's field against his back enhanced the pleasure of strong hands sliding along his sides as Prowl pressed close to kiss his neck.

"What is your idea, love?" Prowl purred deeply. "If we have the energy to keep going when I'm done with you."

"'If?'" Jazz asked, dipping down just enough to rub his frame back up along Prowl's. "If, says the Praxian who likes to remind me about his stamina." A single crook of his finger brought Radiance in front of him and he shimmied between the two, grinning. "I was thinking about coaxing my Praxians to pound me together, or maybe taking one of you with some help. Anything to get the three of us touching." 

Prowl actually moaned at the first suggestion, then shuddered when the option continued to put him in the middle. "You're going to make me regret suggesting first."

"If I may?" Radiance rumbled, getting his lovers' attention. He reached around Jazz to settle his hands on Prowl's hips, then mag-locked against them and pulled, bringing his pelvis forward to press flush to Jazz's aft. "You know how much he loves being shameless for your spike," he purred. "And how much I love watching that. Yours could be a warm-up, before we take you together, before I merge with you..." Knowing dark fingers traveled up Prowl's chest, settling over his spark.

Prowl's vents stuttered and cycled rapidly at the very suggestion of merging while stretched by both his lovers. "Please," he gasped, trembling at the prospect.

"I think he likes that," Radiance said, grinning to Jazz, who pressed a deep kiss in response, reaching back to slide his frame along Prowl's once more. 

"I think he does," Jazz agreed, plating already hot from excitement and the oil as all three headed inside for their berth. Jazz crawled on first, sliding his valve cover away as he did to give his lovers the best view possible before he rolled onto his back, spreading his legs open, holding an arm out to Prowl. "Please, lover." 

"Anytime, my love," Prowl moaned, his spike pressurizing as rapidly as physically possible as he climbed onto the berth to cover Jazz, rubbing their oil-slick frames together as he kissed with all the passion and desire in him for the mech he had given up contentment and home for without hesitation.

Jazz arched up, pushing his hips against Prowl's, sliding his valve over the offered spike, before tilting his head back with an excited rev of his engines when fingers ghosted over the top of his helm, and then came down to grip the sides, holding his head in place. 

Radiance leaned forward to claim an equally deep kiss from Prowl as his lovers had just shared, all of the amazement, gratitude, and love for his mates going unspoken but still clear through his field, which pulsed with an underlying, delirious joy that they could start taking the first steps towards making their union public, legal, and binding. 

Gentle, firm hands pushed back and three frames moved together, familiar and eager, and Radiance moved forward, then purred at the first press of lips against his valve cover. "Know how much you like pleasuring your lovers," he hummed to Jazz, one finger under Prowl's chin, looking into the other Praxian's optics as his own visor lifted away. 

"How much I love your optics," Prowl whispered and leaned in to kiss him deeply while he shifted to drive into Jazz's valve with a single thrust, filling and stretching all the way to the top sensor nodes and holding there briefly to revel in the way Jazz responded to the intrusion with pure enjoyment. "Love you, Radiance. I thank Primus every orn that you are with us."

Radiance grinned against the kiss. "I know," he said softly, then shivered at the hot x-vent between his legs that spread heat right through his systems. One more lick and the cover snapped away, opening his valve up to the eager glossa that immediately pressed up, timed with Prowl's first real drive into their lover, making all three of them moan in unison. "Love you," Radiance gasped, bracing himself against Prowl's shoulders as Jazz drew both legs up and back. " _Primus_ I love you!"

Prowl caught the lifting legs and brought them higher, angling forward to press against Radiance as his hips drove into Jazz. He opened his mouth to claim a kiss from the black mech, trying to hold off the tremors of his rapidly growing charge that Jazz was only making worse with the way he squeezed in around the familiar spike, actively seeking every favorite ridge and sensor, using a century's worth of knowledge to his advantage.

Radiance moaned against him, his own hips rocking slowly over the hot, pressing glossa, shivering every time Jazz swirled around the rim and then pressed in, rubbing lips to platelets as he hummed against his lover. When he broke away for long enough to look down and see the perfect view of Prowl buried inside their lover, his own spike cover slid back with a low, wanting rumble and he grabbed for Jazz's hand, lifting it up and pushing it against the extended length. "Please," he gasped, and shuddered when Jazz immediately wrapped fingers around, stroking. 

Prowl rumbled and reached to join his fingers to Jazz's, working in flawless tandem to drive Radiance to the brink. With effort Prowl straightened himself. "Look, lover," he rumbled hotly, his hand still stroking that spike with Jazz, their fingers entwined and moving with the pounding pace Prowl set. "Watch us touch you. Watch me spread and fill him. It feels so good, the way he gets when he knows he's being watched."

Radiance managed to get optics to focus down on the visual of the contrasting colors of their fingers moving over the black and gold spike, his entire frame shaking from the mix of sensations, still finding himself shocked at how _fast_ these two could make him lose himself like this. "He must be molten around you," he moaned, shifting to focus on the wide V between Jazz's thighs, the way Prowl was disappearing into him. "And Primus I can feel him moaning for us, right through his glossa, how much he wants it. Watching you, Saxo," he gasped, then gave a strangled, static-laced groan at the way Jazz's fingers tightened and his glossa rubbed up hard and hot against him. "Watching him spike you." 

Jazz bucked his hips in response, the charge in his valve skyrocketing in an instant at the next slide, while his thumb swirled over the tip of Radiance's spike on the next

"You make such a visual," Prowl picked up, his voice crackling with static. "The way you stroke his spike, your fingers with mine. I can see you work his valve, love. I can see the lubricant flowing down your faceplates. You're so hot, Saxo. So tight around me, the way your glossa is delving into him and making him moan. Oh, you are such a show. Both of you, moaning and wanting and so incredible to be with in every way," Prowl keened and bucked, driving into Jazz hard and deep as his charge rose to the breaking point. " _Saxooo!_ " he howled, pumping slick, hot, crackling transfluid deep into his mate, setting off all the specialized sensors tuned to his overload.

The hand that was still resting against Radiance's hip tightened instantly as Jazz arched, writhing on his lover's spike as he sobbed in ecstasy into Radiance's valve, rewarded moments later by the way the dark frame seized above him, thighs clamping in around his head, as Radiance's cry joined theirs. He shot through his mates' fingers, onto their frames, shaking the entire time and grinding against Jazz's mouth, only to slump down, trembling, when it was all over, panting and leaning heavily against Prowl. Jazz hummed happily and continued to move his glossa through dripping platelets, making Radiance twitch with each gentle flick. 

"Never tire of this, of being with both of you," Prowl mumbled, shivering as Jazz's valve continued to work his spike until he drew out. His voice dropped to a deep, husky rumble. "I want you both to take me, stretch me so wide, merge with me and share every bit of it with both of you. It feels unbelievable to be between you."

Engines revved in eager response to that as Radiance finally got his hips to unlock and he moved off Jazz, collapsing down on the berth next to him. "Come here and swallow me, keep me hot," he purred to Jazz as the younger mech lifted himself up, before shifting yellow optics over to Prowl. "I want to watch you while he does. Use your fingers to get yourself wet and ready for us to fill you."

Prowl shivered and shifted to kneel on his pedes, then leaned back with his legs spread wide to give a good view of his slick platelets and just how wet he already was. With his helm tipped up to watch Radiance and Jazz, he slid a finger along his valve opening to bring it to his lips, glistening with lubricant to lick off.

Radiance purred at the sight, then his optics flickered over to Jazz, who was staring, transfixed, and he reached out to gently turn Jazz's head back around towards him. "I believe I remembering telling you to do something," he rumbled, smirking a little as he lifted his hips in suggestion. 

"So you did," Jazz said, trilling, and all too eagerly leaned forward to take his mate's spike into his mouth, pressing until lips met housing and holding there, swallowing as directed, field giving a bright burst of pleasure at the way Radiance gasped as soon as he hit the intake. 

Radiance's head fell back and his hand rested on top of Jazz's helm as he steadied himself for a moment, then looked back up at Prowl. "So hot, lover, I can't wait to spill in you. Show me how easily we'll slide in."

"So very easy," Prowl rumbled, playing to Jazz's love of his voice before pressing three fingers into himself in a smooth slide that dragged a deep moan from him. "I'm so ready, always ready, always wanting you."

It took everything Radiance had not to move to pounce his lover just from that sight alone, and only his hand on the back of Jazz's helm kept him in place. "Keep going," he managed, cooling systems kicking up in an attempt to regulate his rapidly increasing temperature. "I want to be burning hot before I'm in you." 

Jazz whined, half in protest and half in anticipation, and the sound made Radiance moan while he watched, gaze moving between Prowl's valve and the fingers stretching it open for display and their mate's optics, bright, fixed, focused. Prowl's mouth fell open as a fourth and fifth finger were added and he moved, panting, and when his hips pushed up into his own hand, Radiance's will crumbled. "Take him with me," he whispered to Jazz, who lifted his head, licked his lips, and then turned his eager gaze to Prowl. 

"Here," Jazz purred, moving out of the way for Prowl to crawl over Radiance, who settled on his back, spike hard and nudging against the slick valve. Radiance pushed, slipping in easily, pressing deep, and then held for Jazz to move in behind and join him. 

Jazz rested his hands on Prowl's hips, lifting, before sliding in, moaning deeply. This process had gotten easier over the vorns, more comfortable for all of them, but the fit was still intensely tight, forcing spikes to press together, stretching whoever happened to be in the middle. 

Prowl could only gasp as he was held and shivered between them, now subject to whatever they chose to do. He was distantly aware of Jazz's hand reaching around front, tapping a charged cable against his interfacing port. It snapped open with an anticipatory quiver, Prowl's firewalls already lowering as he was plugged into.

The gasps from his partners came in the next moment as they finished making the hardline connections between all three, and then Radiance's processors came peripheral to his and Jazz's and all three held there, shivering together, reveling in the openness. 

~Feels good, Prowler,~ Jazz moaned as soon as he regained enough of his senses to speak, rocking his hips back in a small motion, sliding his spike along Radiance's, making all of them shudder. ~Always so good inside you.~

~Yes,~ Prowl's reply was more moan than glyph, but the agreement was intense as he rippled and squeezed his valve around them.

~Jazz,~ Radiance breathed, back arching up, holding onto Prowl's shoulders. ~Open with us, I want to know our energy is in you when we overload.~ He caressed his lovers through the charged up hardline, and shuddered when he heard the sound of chest armor unlatching from behind Prowl. 

No matter how many times he heard it, that sound would never, ever stop being an erotic one. His own locks opened and armor folded and tucked back, revealing a spark that was already pulsing in its chamber, eager to press forward. ~Prowl,~ he gasped, gazing at Prowl's near-white spark, strong and pulsing as the chamber slid forward and spiraled open. He moaned again, unable to keep entirely still as Jazz pushed against him.

~Please!~ Prowl keened, begging shamelessly for the merge and for the wave of pleasure that movement brought.

His lovers moved together to satisfy him, Jazz with his hips and Radiance with his chamber, open and lifted, reaching out with his spark to touch Prowl's in a brush of energy that was _so_ gentle but enough to make them both cry out. 

Jazz stilled as the merge started, resting against Prowl's frame, forehead touching his back and hands running up and down his sides, hips, legs, anything he could touch, as the locks engaged. He could _feel_ their sparks joining through the hardline, was just as subject to the rush of light that flooded through them and made them keen for each other, could hear the echo of their songs. His lovers were intoxicating like this. 

He let out a shuddering x-vent, barely moving his frame but for the small, pushing motions into the cycling valve, rubbing against Radiance, lost in the addictive colortaste of their merge. ~Radiance, Prowl,~ he moaned, reaching through the hardline.

~Love you. Jazz.~ Reached back in the mingled thought that was his triad. ~So good. Want you.~

~Have me,~ Jazz whispered, trembling with _want_. ~Love you want you _yours_.~

The connection was imperfect, meshing hardware with spark energy, but it worked as well as they could make it. Three awarenesses pushed together, brilliant and burning, giving and taking. 

~Ours mine yours,~ Radiance's spark whispered back, surrounded by and surrounding Prowl, energy that swept and sparkled as it moved and caressed. ~Prowl, Jazz, belong, _always_ yours. _Prowl_ ,~ came the shuddering cry. ~My love, have you, have _me_.~

~Always yours. Belonged to you on first sight. Grew to love you. Three, perfect balance. Mine, yours, ours.~ Prowl gasped, his processors already being overridden by pleasure and energy he desperately wanted to share with them all, to be truly one being with three frames. ~Soon. Soon we will.~

~ _Yes!_ ~ came the clear, resonating response, echoing through three frames that strained to unite and touch as deeply as they were able. 

~The first moment we can,~ Radiance vowed, energy _surging_ out through them in agreement and promise, sending crackling hot charge racing through the hardlines, each frame amplifying and strengthening the current until it became a single, blinding loop. 

~Feel your bliss,~ Jazz pleaded. ~Let me!~

Prowl could resist no command like that and his spark plunged down, enveloping and then being enveloped by the orb that was Radiance until they began a single, dense spark of glittering pale gold and the frames they powered screamed their bliss, crackling and oblivious to everything but the unity that was this moment.

Jazz's voice joined theirs an instant later as energy rushed in, around, through, filling his chest and swirling, pushing his frame into overload with his lovers', losing himself to the light of their sparks before he collapsed over Prowl, shaking and spent. 

He felt a dazed brush against his processor, one that he returned, and very slowly, the joined sparks loosened and moved away. Slowly all three separated and slid to either side, bracketing Radiance's black form and sinking into a blissful recharge knowing that the next stage of their relationship had been successfully begun.

* * *

Three vorns into the secret admirer gifts and Jazz had a nice little collection of weapons, vids, art, music and even professional lessons in acrobatics, all of which had something on display in his private office. Unlike the Enforcers, every agent got their own office immediately. It wasn't for work, though many used it as a quiet place for reports, but its real purpose was to be a space agents could be safe in. A private space to cry, scream, break down, recharge, self-service, laugh, or anything else that needed to be done in solitude. The walls were thick, sound proofed and there was no overt surveillance equipment to watch. It was a sanctuary. For Jazz, who hadn't needed it for anything more than a quick overload in vorns, it was now a showcase. He frequently left the door open so others could see what he'd been gifted. Those that could hang were tacked up outside on the hallway by his door.

Whiplash tolerated it with the explicit understanding that once the courting was over the showcase would be hidden behind closed doors. It was an unusual exhibition of normal society in their closed world, and it unsettled some agents to see it. For Jazz, it was something to remind him of why he continued to do this work, beyond just being good at it.

He'd been underground for almost a metacycle when he walked into his office, stretching his arms up over his head and cracking the joints in his neck, and almost missed the small box sitting on the desk. 

It was a case, he realized as he looked closer, and when he lifted the lid, his spark fluttered with pleasure and he trilled, lifting out an energon dagger. When he turned it over, examining the quality and balance of the blade, he grinned. The formal glyphs of Radiance's designation were written along the edge, inlaid in shining gold. His own, or rather Saxo's, were inscribed on the other edge, and down the center, uniting them all in silver, was Pantera.

"About time," Whiplash grumbled from the doorway. "Though I have to give him credit for knowing you well and buying quality."

Jazz turned with a huge grin. "I was about to comm you. Is anything else going to get added to my docket, or can I leave after the next room?" 

"No, you'll be useless with that grin you'll get after testing his new gift," Whiplash pretended offense. "You're due home time anyway." 

Jazz purred deeply, turning the new weapon over a few more times, running a careful finger along the edges, before slipping it into subspace. "What grin?" he asked innocently, and sidled up to his trainer, mentor, and commander, and nipped a kiss from him. "I promise I won't look like I'm in love until I'm out of the room."

"Good," Whiplash sighed and shook his helm. "I cannot wait for you to bond and have this insanity be over with." His field told a different story, one of being rather smitten himself by the idea of someone actually going through with the old traditions and doing so with such care.

Jazz's optics glinted dangerously as he pulled the dagger again. "I can't wait to drive into that glitch's spark so I _can_ bond," he purred, then flashed Whiplash one more grin before heading off for the washracks so he could look presentable for his next assignment.

The commander of Imperial Special Operations simply shook his helm and put a little more focus on finding a way to get Vortex into one of these rooms.

* * *

As Jazz was drawing his first line of energon with his gift, Prowl was finishing booking a speeder into holding. Once done, he headed back through the building for his desk, engines rumbling contentedly with the thrill of the chase, only to pitch down with pleasure when he spotted something waiting for him there. 

He'd stopped being surprised by the gifts left for him, more pieces of the first puzzle box, each adding a new glyph into the display inside, the occasional artifact, usually part of Cybertron's intellectual history, and even some classic puzzles. 

This box looked different from anything else he'd received yet, though. This could have been purchased at a store that sold games. Except as he picked it up and examined it, Prowl knew immediately that it hadn't been. He knew every title, company and producer of tactical games. He knew what was out and what was set for release and what was still in designing stages, and he instantly recognized this as being none of them.

He sat down and carefully examined the box, his fuel pump speeding up and engine revving sharply as he took in the producer, Flamewind Games. It was a one-mech company that had produced every one of his favorite diversions. Two additional designations were listed and his engine revved higher at the AI specialist and graphics designer. Near the bottom, in the place where the company logo would normally go, were the glyphs "Single Production Game for Pantera from Radiance."

Inside was a small chip, the kind designed for a single installation, with etching on the surface that only the recipient could request another copy from the manufacturer. Prowl lifted it, optics shining, when he heard a deep chuckle from behind. 

"So your 'mystery' courter reveals himself," Mortar rumbled, clear pride and approval in his field. "I was supposed to make sure you saw that before you left but luckily for me you found yourself something to file a report about." 

"He has quite outdone himself," Prowl's harmonics were actually giddy, something that drew more attention than his mystery gift. "These designers are some of the finest in the market and it is a one-copy game."

A groan escaped Fevor as he reached the desk. "I'll deal with the report. I know that field. You aren't going to pay attention to anything until you've beaten that sim into submission."

"Oh, he'll be done with that in time to do the report _and_ finish his shift," Mortar said, grinning fondly. 

"I don't know, a couple of those other ones took him longer," Fever said, reaching across and stealing the datapad that Prowl had pulled out. "Go on, try it out, tell us how it is."

With a quiver of excitement Prowl slid the chip into a forearm port and accepted the download. His processor lit up with instructions, the game design and purpose. He didn't even notice that his frame was vibrating with his excitement, his field flicking his pleasure at anyone in range. It wasn't just a game. It was a randomized and adaptive tactical governing game. R&D, building cities, managing resources, keeping the citizens happy, negotiating with a dozen AI leaders selected from a list of thirty and waging war. It bore distinct similarities to many of his favorites, including the replayability factor, but customized to his quirks and interests.

A quick skim through the settings showed that he could set his own goals, be they financial, territorial, or anything else, leading to games that could be played for metacycles if the goals were ambitious enough. The sheer number of settings, from the total population to the age and number of creations opposing leadership had, gave a computable but extraordinarily high number of possibilities. Adding in the AI that this programmer was so well known for, they almost became infinite. 

Fevor's engines rumbled with fondness as the teek of Prowl's field became more and more excited. "Looks like that one's a success." 

"Who is it from?" Mortar asked, knowing the answer perfectly well, but also knowing that with this gift, the mecha involved in this courtship could all publicly admit to it now.

"Radiance," Prowl purred deeply, his doorwings quivering as he continued to scroll through the immense set-up options, including a 'random' setting for most categories. "It's beyond a success. This took _planning_ , too. Beyond getting them to agree, creating a new game typically takes vorns."

"He is not my SWAT chief without reason," Mortar chuckled deeply, clapping Prowl on the shoulder. "I think I speak for everyone when I say the entire precinct approves." 

Fevor snorted. "Approves? We've been _waiting_ for it. Glad to officially hear he's the one behind everything."

"If he wasn't, we would be having _words_ ," Prowl chuckled, still quivering in excitement. "And I'd have to hunt someone down that knows me entirely too well."

Mortar laughed, loud and genuinely cheerful. "Congratulations, Pantera," he said, gave his shoulder one more squeeze, and headed to his office to leave Prowl to play with his new game in relative peace.

* * *

The rest of the orn went quickly and quietly, giving Prowl plenty of time to fully explore just the setting options of his new tactical game and start a simulation that was still running in the back of his processors as he drove home. He was halfway there when he got the ping that Jazz was already there, and it took everything he had in him not to speed the rest of the way, not having seen Jazz in nearly a metacycle. 

He realized with a pleased quiver that Radiance must have consulted with Whiplash and timed these particular gifts for a night when all three could be together, now that they could _finally_ admit among themselves who their courter was. 

When he got inside, it took less than a klik to find his mates in the downstairs lounge that also served as the smaller library, but with a city view that the upstairs library was lacking. Jazz had Radiance pinned up against a wall and was kissing him deeply, and looked up, purring, as soon as Prowl entered, and held an arm out. 

"I've solved our mystery," he said, grinning, taking a kiss from his mate before they both turned back to Radiance. 

Radiance grinned back. "I still don't know what he's talking about," he told Prowl.

"Is that so?" Prowl grinned in an utterly feral manner and relaxed his grip on his field, flooding them both with just how _elated_ he was with his new game before he leaned in close to claim a heated kiss. "For some reason I got a new tactical game today. A singular production, and it had your designation on it as the provider."

Jazz hummed as he watched, hand sliding down Radiance's front. "That's an astonishing coincidence," he said, and his free hand was suddenly holding a dagger, one that he tapped lightly right under Radiance's throat, showing off the side that had their designations so artfully woven together. "Because I got _this_ today and it also has his designation on it. What do you think, my love?" he purred to Prowl. "I think he _might_ just be responsible for all those other gifts as well."

"I think he had better be, or we might just find a use for that blade," Prowl purred dangerously, and on a level he meant it. Even if it didn't mean using the blade on Radiance, but on the mech who was impersonating him with entirely too much success.

"I think we just might. Well?" Jazz asked, his own smile turning just as deadly as he spun just the tip against their lover's neck. "Out with it now, gorgeous one." 

Radiance's engines _revved_ with excitement and he laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "All right, yes, it was me," he confessed to what they already all knew. "All of--"

He didn't make it the entire way through the sentence before Jazz was grabbing him in a kiss, deep and joyful, and one that lasted for just a few moments before the dark mech was being grabbed by Prowl for his own kiss, one that left all of their engines racing. They passed him back and forth for a few kliks before finally letting go to let him steady his vents, looking dazed, and _thrilled_. 

"Think we'd better find a way to thank you," Jazz said, unable to stop grinning. 

"What do you think of sucking him off together?" Prowl stage whispered in Jazz's audial. "As revved up as he gets watching us, I imagine he would get that much hotter watching us go down on him."

The answering engine roar, not from Jazz, combined with the sound of a spike panel snapping away, was enough of an answer, especially when combined with the way Jazz's grin turned downright _wicked_ as he looked back at Radiance, reaching down to brush his fingers along the extending length of his spike. "I imagine so," he whispered back, frame shaking with suppressed laughter, his field bright with an intoxicating joy as he sank down to his knees in unison with Prowl. He leaned in for a kiss, one hand wrapping around the gold-ringed spike, holding it while he slipped his glossa along Prowl's. 

"Has he turned on the magnets while you've had him in your intake?" Prowl asked with a rumbling purr as he licked up that lovely spike in perfect tandem with Jazz.

Jazz pressed his lips around the tip, sliding off to meet Prowl for another kiss before they turned back, each x-venting hotly over the sculpted head, making Radiance moan. "He hasn't," he hummed, and pressed his thumb where his glossa had just been, looking up at Radiance, whose vents were already kicked up in pitch. "Holding out on me, lover?" he teased. 

Radiance shook his head. "Not on purpose," he gasped, and moaned, hips pushing forward. "I will happily fix that oversight for you."

"It's intense," Prowl grinned, moving down to mouth the spike housing. "Makes your processor fuzzy in the best ways."

Jazz's lips quirked up in a curious smile before parting to let his glossa slip out to swirl around the tip, hot and wet, drawing a gasping cry and a sharp thrust forward against his mouth. "I'll leave you room," Jazz told his lover, who was using a mix of his glossa and fingers to stimulate the base of the dark spike, before he wrapped his lips around the tip and pushed, swallowing easily, stopping just short of taking the entire length in. 

Hands came up to rest on Radiance's thighs for balance and Jazz swallowed, ripping his intake for a few moments before he heard the faint, electric hum of the magnet systems coming online, and the spike was physically pulled against him, creating a dizzying rush through his processors that made his intake spasm. They both moaned, Radiance's voice going up in pitch, his hands shooting down to grab each of their helms. 

"It's intense," Prowl moaned, watching it happen to his lovers with overbright optics. "Not as good as in the valve, but oh so good."

Jazz could only whine his agreement, gripping Radiance's legs to hold himself steady in a world that was suddenly tilting in a completely unfamiliar, thrilling way. After a moment of trying to stabilize, and then giving up, he tried to swallow, and found he could move against the pull, slowly, and if the way Radiance cried out meant anything, this felt _amazing_ for his mate. He purred, pitching deep and rumbling right from his engines, and the answer was a _keen_. 

"See love?" Prowl gave an answering rumble as he stole a half kiss from Jazz before returning to suck and lick the housing. "It's _amazing_."

" _Yes,_ " Radiance moaned, his fingers clenching and unclenching on their heads, needing them just to stay upright, as he trembled, hydraulics in his legs whining with the effort to push deeper into the tight space, fighting his own magnets and the force they were exerting to keep him stuck to the intake. "Saxo!"

Jazz hummed, hands going up to his lover's hips and setting there, dipping beneath armor and playing along the tension cables with expert fingers that knew framework and how to coax any kind of feeling he wanted out from it better than most on the planet. He pulled his head back, slowly, the strange sensation of magnets tugging at his processors making him shiver while the resistance they created made Radiance moan, static starting to lace his voice. 

Prowl followed up along the spike after his lover, using glossa and lips to attend to every exposed micron, purring deeply as the magnets started to pull at him as well, keeping everything slow and careful as they worked their mate's spike together. 

" _Primus_ , you two," Radiance gasped suddenly, and Jazz answered by pressing up with his glossa, massaging it against the underside of the spike nudging up against his intake, and that pulled a ragged, wanting cry as dark fingers clamped down on their helms and Radiance's entire frame shuddered with overload. Hot, crackling transfluid burst into Jazz's intake as powerful magnets in the hand on his helm made his processor go just as fuzzy as an overload. Next to him Prowl moaned, deep and pleased, as the potent palm magnet scrambled his processors, slowing everything down and injecting the same kind of euphoria as a powerful overload without the physical strain.

When Radiance finally came back to himself, he found he was bracing his entire weight against his lovers, magnetized palms keeping them held in place. With a thought, he flicked the entire system off and they both shivered, then Jazz drew off his spike and grinned, looking up with transfluid dripping down his chin and a field that was almost giddy, though it was nothing like the euphoric rush that was coming off of Prowl. It came in heavy waves as his far more delicately balanced and powerful processors, so central to his very purpose in being, unscrambled themselves more slowly.

"You're right," Jazz purred, static-laced as much as Radiance had been. "That is a rush." 

"Palm is even better," Prowl mumbled, dazed and quite content to remain that way for the moment.

Radiance chuckled and slid down the wall to be at the same height as his lovers, running his fingers down the side of Prowl's face and tipping the mech's face up towards him as Prowl rubbed affectionately against his palm, and grinned at the unfocused optics. "Love the way that makes you go all fuzzy," he purred, and leaned in to nip at his lower lip. "Imagine if I caught you between my spike and my hand."

Prowl's entire frame shuddered with a surge of _want_ enough to make his lovers groan. Prowl's glossa slipped out to lick at Radiance's wrist, playful and desirous.

Radiance purred back, equally playful, as Jazz wrapped his arms around him and tugged, biting at his lover's neck, engines hot and racing from the processor buzz and a metacycle of being away from his mates. 

"Secret... admirer... not so secret... anymore," Jazz said between nips, before biting down hard enough to make Radiance jump, then twist and tackle his heated mate onto his back, pinning him down with a sharp rev. 

Jazz grinned back, unrepentant, and squirmed. "Think we should break you in as our official courter," he purred. "See if you're up to the task." 

"You know I'm up to the task," Radiance rumbled, and then couldn't keep himself from grinning back, and then laughing when Jazz grabbed him down into a kiss, his other hand reaching out to grab Prowl and tug him down when Prowl seemed content to simply watch them.

"You're Praxian, but we should test," Prowl kissed each of them, then nuzzled against Jazz's neck as he shamelessly rubbed his frame along his lover's. "Give you a full workout, make sure we're all compatible."

"Yes please," Jazz trilled, then yelped with surprise when Radiance slipped a hand over his spike cover and magnetized against it, rubbing, almost pulling the concealed spike out as soon as the cover was gone. Jazz's hips bucked up and he groaned, arching, before Radiance drew his hand away with a teasing grin.

"Berth, perhaps?" he suggested, trying not to laugh at the look Jazz was giving him, and then it was his turn to get tackled onto his back, before Prowl moved in and grabbed Jazz around the middle, growling deeply and playfully. 

"Berth, yes," Prowl rumbled, before Jazz twisted to kiss him and Radiance somehow managed to get up onto his pedes, bringing the other two with him, before all three made their laughing, stumbling way upstairs to tumble into their berth to investigate as many ways to interface as they could before collapsing.

* * *

It was another ninety vorns before Radiance casually asked his lovers if they would like to meet him during one of their upcoming free orns to walk the paths of the Helix gardens, a request that they had all been eagerly looking forward to. As always, it was on the very first orn plausible between social expectations and their schedules, so all three and their respective social circles knew what that casual offer really was and why all three were amped up.

The previous gifts of courtship had all been in relatively private settings, environments with mecha close to Prowl and Jazz or left in the grand home that Prowl had bought for them, but nothing nearly as public as this. They socialized in public, but never gave gifts face to face. This gift, offered personally and publicly, and in a location where the courtees could walk away and end the courtship with no questions asked, was the final step of the opening phase. Their public acceptance would indicate a serious interest in continuing, and the burden of courting would shift to both sides. 

That orn could not come soon enough for any of them, and had already had to be rescheduled twice after both Prowl and Radiance got caught up in Enforcer duties. This time, while Radiance had been delayed, he promised that he would only be a few breems late and that they should enjoy the walk until he caught up. He found it a little odd, but he knew how much his lovers enjoyed seeing him straight from field work with a bit of soot or ozone clinging to him, and wouldn't need to wash.

So late in the evening, after most had had their energon and were enjoying the fading light and the glow of the crystals, Jazz and Prowl walked arm in arm, leaning together with their doorwing overlapping, the picture of a contented couple and one that drew a few smiles from strangers, and not-so-strangers to see.

"May I join you?" came the sudden soft request from behind, spoken by a dark mech with properly canted wings and ritual-laced subharmonics, leaving no doubt that this was a formal request made by an interested, and serious, suitor. Radiance stood several paces back, far enough that he could still be considered to not be with them if they declined, holding his arm out and looking slightly worse for wear, with his carefully applied finish from earlier now dulled and scratched in places, but still as beautiful as ever to his mates. 

The scene had the immediate attention of everyone in range, every conversation quieted and steps halted to watch. Though this was a moment between the three mechs, it was still socially expected that everyone who could witness it would stop and do so. As many traditions that had fallen to the wayside, this one was still firmly entrenched in every strata of Praxian society.

Prowl turned to face Radiance and took his public role as the dominant member of his pairing. With a warm, welcoming smile that left no doubt to the honesty of his actions, he extended his hand in welcome and greeting, palm up for peace. "We would be pleased if you would."

"I am honored," Radiance answered, placing his palm over Prowl's, with a truly grateful dip of his wings before he turned to Jazz, smiling. "And truly blessed. Thank you." He fell in step with them on the other side of Prowl and they began walking again, moving at the same slow pace, in companionable silence, getting knowing smiles from everyone they passed. 

After enough time had passed, Radiance put his hand on Prowl's arm, guiding them to the side of the path. Again all who noticed paused to witness, to fulfill one of the happier roles of society, and the three involved were alive with energy. Despite how well they all knew how the offer would be answered, in this moment the weight of the ritual set in and swept them up in nervous excitement.

Dipping his doorwings down in submission and acceptance of their absolute authority in the moment, Radiance drew two rectangular plates. Each was engraved with a sequence of glyphs beginning with Pantera or Saxo and ending with Radiance. Between the formal designations was the address of his home and the statement that the mecha listed above were authorized all use of it as their own.

"Will you accept the key to my home, so it may be our home?" Radiance asked, his voice trembling faintly with the weight of the moment and all it implied.

Despite how long he'd had the codes to that residence, Prowl still drew in a sharp vent as his optics brightened. He reached out and placed his hand over the plate with his designation on it, claws warm against Radiance's metal skin for a moment and held there, the gift between them, warming.

"Yes, Radiance. I would make my home with you."

Radiance fought against the surge of excitement that went through him, managing to get it down to just a quick flutter in his wings before looking to Jazz. Each partner needed to accept on his own. 

Jazz smiled back, covering the other plate with his palm. "I would happily make my home with you, Radiance." 

Joyful, celebratory trills sounded out from the witnesses around them, mecha who were all grinning, delighted for the chance to observe the courting ritual, and Radiance barely heard any of it as he stepped forward into the tight embrace of his lovers. A moment later, the trills switched to encouraging whistles and Radiance laughed in true, honest bliss as he gave in and turned first to claim his rightful kiss from Prowl, and then from Jazz, to the cheers of everyone watching. 

Ritual completed, traffic along the paths slowly began to move again, leaving the forming triad to themselves where they stood huddled off to the side. 

"Thank you," Radiance said, a hand on each of their necks, looking between them. "Thank you for letting me into your lives." 

"We love you, how could we not?" Jazz answered him, and then looked to Prowl. "We have something for you."

"It's not part of any ritual, simply a gift that timed out like this," Prowl smiled, claimed another kiss that went on until Radiance's optics flickered off with a soft moan. When Prowl draw away and Radiance looked at the pair again, two visors, one a rich yellow that matched his own, the other a familiar bright blue looked back at him over one smile and one huge grin.

"Oh, Primus," Radiance breathed, his own visor brightening with excitement as he reached up to brush his fingers over each of them in turn. "Oh, wow. I knew visors would suit you, you look amazing!" He grinned, wings quivering. "Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but did you _really_ have to give me this gift in public?" he purred with a suggestive rev, unable to hide how much the aesthetic on his mates turned him on. 

Prowl leaned forward to kiss him, field licking along Radiance's to give no doubt he intended to enjoy that mood. "Perhaps not, but I do know how much you enjoy denial games. Perhaps when we get home we'll indulge you. Or perhaps we'll make sure all our new markings are painted and sealed before you can touch for pleasure."

Radiance shivered and Jazz purred. "We start tonight?" Jazz asked, eager subharmonics in his voice. 

"We start tonight," Radiance said, just as excited. "Home?"

"Home," Prowl rumbled.


	34. Courting in Praxus: Painting

Prowl didn't often offer himself to be bound, and it was rare for either of his lovers to suggest it, so it surprised them both when he quietly laid out the terms. He wanted this to be done right so badly it ached and that meant he had to be decoratively bound and helpless while his courter molested his doorwings by painting on them. He'd be bound, and he wouldn't be able to move, but he'd have the codes to unlock his soft shackles and a rope end to tug that would make the bindings loosen. He couldn't move, but he was still ultimately in control.

"You are beautiful," Radiance whispered as he finished with the last of the knots and moved back to fully take in the scene before him, recording it in the highest definition possible for another few moments before lifting his visor to reveal his optics. Prowl was standing, rather than the suspended kneel that was truly traditional, but otherwise he was bound perfectly by custom. His hands raised over his helm, his doorwings carefully bound to hold them fully extended back to expose the outer alt mode surface as clearly as possible. Lines of fine, soft rope crisscrossed his frame in a decorative weave that was much more about aesthetics than control.

Best of all, at least in Radiance's opinion, was that his lover was fully coherent and calm. The calm part had taken some work, the better part of two joors to get him to this state, but between them they'd managed it, and Radiance was very proud of him. He knew more intimately than he cared to think about exactly why Prowl's mind retreated when he was immobilized, but that made being aware now even more of a triumph.

It also made the knowledge that this sight was for _him_ all the more awe-inspiring. The mech before him inspired a singular reverence he'd never felt with another and Radiance loved him with every part of his spark. "So beautiful," he breathed, taking a moment to run his hands down Prowl's sides, gaze sweeping him one more time before he pulled his paint from subspace. 

With Prowl having managed his finances for the better part of the century, Radiance could afford things he never would have dreamed of before, like the ritual energon-based paint he now held. The mix was custom ordered, the color of mercury with flakes of gold mixed in that shone and glistened when they caught the light.

His other hand slipped into subspace to bring out a brush that he touched gently to Prowl's lips, tracing them slowly. The soft contact parted Prowl's lip plates with a pleasured sound. Tender. Prowl needed tenderness like this, and Radiance was honored to provide it, honored to be given the gift of being allowed to.

Slowly, gently, ever aware of Jazz's bright gaze from where he was reclining on the berth, he traced all around Prowl's face, circling optics, down his nose, over his jawline, and then down his neck. "You will bear my mark," he murmured. "You have accepted my courtship, and now everyone who looks at you will know." The brush traced lower, skipped past his chest to circle the spike cover, then down to ghost over the valve, and then finally up, touching each dataport and at the last, settling over his spark.

"I will wear it proudly, my love," Prowl murmured, his field thick with his trust and adoration of the mech facing him.

"As proudly as I will wear yours," Radiance said, leaning in and brushing their lips together before stepping back and looking over the smooth planes that were about to become his canvas, then dipped brush into paint and drew the first clear, sure line down the broad side of the right wing. No hesitation, hand steady, frame and field calm and relaxed. He'd practiced this design thousands upon thousands of times, perfecting the mark that he would one orn place upon his lovers before accepting theirs. 

As he worked, Jazz moved and came over, settling himself behind Radiance and watching with chin resting on his shoulder, arms around his waist. "It's gorgeous, my love," he murmured, then kissed Radiance's neck. "I can't wait to wear it." 

Radiance smiled and hummed, moving onto the more decorative lines after finishing the main structure of the formal glyph of his designation. He was amazed at how _calm_ Prowl was, relaxed and steady in the bindings without the panicked freeze that he had seen in their memories. This Prowl was still because he was willing to be still, pleased to be so, and it sent a thrill through Radiance to know he had come so far in one hundred and ninety vorns that Prowl could move past his trauma out of trust.

"It is a beautiful design," Prowl smiled without trying to look at them, his doorwings perfectly still despite all the tickling that painting them entailed. "It _feels_ beautiful."

"You are worth nothing less," Radiance murmured, intensely focused on his work now that he had moved into the more intricate details. A stroke of the brush could not be taken back. When this was over, sealant would be placed over the design to protect it from wear, and everyone would see his work. 

The first doorwing finished he moved onto the second and repeated the painting as precisely as possible, then stepped back, and looked over the sight before him, one that very nearly made his vents stall out. 

Prowl's optics were dimmed with relaxation, his field easy and content, flickers of bliss running throughout, and the glyphwork shone in the light, glittering with even the slightest movement. It made Radiance's spark throb just to see and teek this surrender to his touch, and it took him a moment to gather himself.

Jazz curled around him a little more and kissed his cheek. "Why don't we admire what you have accomplished while it dries, put on the protective coat, and then settle him on the berth while you bind and tease me until I feel my spark will burst?"

Radiance hummed and then turned his head to catch Jazz's mouth in a longer kiss. "I think that sounds perfect," he said, before they both turned back to Prowl, helms resting together and drinking in the sight of their mate together. "Help me with this," Radiance murmured after a moment, and guided Jazz to stand in front of Prowl while he moved around back, clicking magnets on and resting his hands on the shoulder plates, rubbing the plating in slow, smooth circles. "So proud of you for relaxing," he whispered.

Prowl moaned into a pleasured, non-sensual groan and pressed into the touch, wanting that tingling slow-down that came with the powerful magnets close enough to scramble his processors.

Jazz smiled and purred at the feel of his bound mate, most of his focus on keeping the arousal out of his field. "It really is amazing. You look amazing," he murmured as he tried to think of a way to touch that wasn't arousing, and finally touched their helms together and settled his hands on Prowl's neck. He slipped his fingers into the cabling and stroked along the length, easy and familiar, seeking to keep Prowl relaxed as Radiance continued his massage down his back, praising softly the entire time. 

He finally made his way back up, just as slow, giving the paint as much time to set as he thought Prowl would be able to stand before sealing it with the protective finish, and when his hands touched Jazz's on the neck, the magnets clicked off and he moved to the side between Prowl's shoulder and doorwing face, pulling the clear liquid that would preserve and protect his design. Jazz moved to rest against his back and watched the broad, clear strokes, and when both were finished, Radiance leaned in and pressed a soft, chaste kiss against Prowl's mouth and lifted his hands to his helm. 

The lowest magnetic tug was still enough for Prowl to feel, and Radiance moved his hands in careful circles around his temples. "Help me untie him," he instructed to Jazz, who moved around behind and started in on the knots as Radiance massaged. Bliss rolled off Prowl in waves, a sensation very similar to a good overload, but without the crackling ozone and inherently sensual aspects. This was purely mental pleasure, and Prowl's engine purred in the grip of it, his optics unfocused and completely content with the moment. Everything, from the bindings to the touch of his far more sensual mate, was lost in the grip of being so wonderfully hazy.

When his hands finally came down they draped over Radiance's shoulders for support, though that offered little to help keep him upright, most of that work being done by Jazz holding him from behind with his frame while his hands finished loosening the rest of the bindings.

By the time they finished, the sealant coating was hardened and dry and Prowl was limp, purring and content between them. Radiance took one more sweet, soft kiss before lowering his hands to wrap around Prowl's waist as he and Jazz moved together to settle him onto the berth, laid out on his back, his mates on either side. It was warming to see the way Prowl pressed into the contact on both sides, humming pleasantly and radiating his bliss.

"Primus has blessed me," Radiance murmured, thumb stroking over Prowl's helm as the optics slowly refocused. "He has blessed both of us," he added, smiling, gaze flickering to Jazz.

"All three of us," Prowl smiled and lifted a hand to stroke Radiance's cheek. "You are a blessing we never looked for."

Radiance hummed and turned into the hand, holding it and kissing the palm before looking at Jazz, who was cuddled against Prowl's other side, smiling as he watched his mates, and even though his field was calm and smooth, there was an excited quiver to his doorwings that he couldn't hide. Radiance chuckled knowingly. "When you're steady, we'll get our mate trussed up and have some fun with him," he purred to Prowl. 

Jazz grinned and tucked his face against Prowl's neck. "And then we can put our mark on him." 

Those words were enough to entice Prowl to rouse from his sedate state. "I look forward to both," he purred, turning to catch Jazz in a kiss that flared arousal through the younger mech. "It is going to be a great deal of fun to see how long we can hold you at a simmer."

"I just _dare_ you to try," Jazz purred back, pulling Prowl down on top of him. "You're gonna be dying to see me overload before I'm begging you to let me." 

Radiance's engines revved and he moved in over Jazz. "Is that so?" he rumbled, then grinned at Prowl over his shoulder, the now-lowered visor flickering in a wink.

"We shall see, my love," Prowl purred into another kiss as his hands moved to skim along Jazz's flanks. "Who has the stronger will."

"He'll be competing against both of us," Radiance grinned, hands following Prowl's down Jazz's body before moving back up to his doorwings, caressing as he pressed his face against the back of his neck and inhaled deeply, catching the unique, intoxicating scent that was _Jazz_. " _Oh,_ " he breathed, shuddering, "Can't wait for everyone to see my mark on you," he moaned, then the sound shifted into a deep growl and he moved up and back, pulling Jazz with him and dragging him off the berth. "You're _mine_ , Saxo." 

Jazz put up a brief, token resistance before Radiance had him on his knees and was pulling strong rope from subspace, wrapping it around his wrists and yanking them down behind his back. 

Prowl followed them up, allowing Radiance to do the full binding work as tradition called for, but entertaining himself and his lovers with soft, teasing caresses along Jazz's frame and more than a few kisses, getting shivers and purrs in response, mixed in with the occasional gasp as Radiance pushed and pulled everything into place with a rough, demanding grip.

Prowl had needed slow, gentle tenderness and the calming fields of his mates, for Jazz, the opposite, and Radiance gladly provided both. 

By the time he was done, Jazz was on his knees with a vocal inhibitor on his throat, arms tied together behind his back, wrists anchored down to his ankles, rope around his neck connecting in and keeping him almost completely immobilized. His doorwings were spread forcefully out, rope wrapped firmly around the bases, and as Radiance finished the last, tight knot, Jazz groaned, deep in his chassis, his field a riot with chaotic bliss and spiking lust throughout.

Radiance stood and came around front to examine his work, pleased with the results as he and Prowl looked over their bound lover together. "Couldn't escape if you wanted to," he purred, and Jazz whined.

"And it makes you incredibly hot, doesn't it, love?" Prowl smiled, the glitter of his optics promising that he intended to take full advantage of both facts while Radiance worked. "I think it would make you even hotter if we took a break or two during the painting to relive our charge without touching you."

Vents picked up almost immediately in response to the suggestion and Jazz shook his head while his field _screamed_ the opposite, almost begging them to follow through with that threat.

"I think he agrees," Radiance chuckled as he knelt down in front of Jazz, Prowl shifting to allow him room to work, and pulled his paint again, along with a clean brush. This one followed the same path over Jazz's frame, only with decidedly different intent and lighter, more teasing flicks. When he moved over the interface covers, he stayed there until both had snapped away, and while one hand reached down between Jazz's legs, the paintbrush swirled around the spike tip that was beginning to pressurize. 

Jazz moaned and tried to push into the hand, but Radiance kept it far enough away, using only the magnets to pull at the platelets, refusing to touch. "Yes, I think this will do nicely," he hummed, tilting his head to rest against Prowl's.

"Perhaps when you are done with his doorwings and we are sated, I can paint him?" Prowl trilled into a rumble of desire. He hadn't had any thought or even knowledge of the ritual when he'd become Jazz's lover, his mate, the first part of this triad. Feeling and watching made him long for it, for the ritual that had never been present in his existence but that he was beginning to crave.

Radiance smiled as he continued teasing at his lover's equipment with the almost-touches, never letting him feel the warmth of another's frame against his own as he moved, and nodded. "He will be ready to explode when you're finished," he chuckled, and leaned in to give his mate, who was already quivering with tension, a harsh, biting kiss. "I have fought for you, won you, and bound you, and now everyone will know," he whispered against Jazz's mouth, voice low and husky. "Everyone will see that you love me enough to let me defile you with my mark." 

Jazz _keened_.

Prowl shivered, watching, his field heating with arousal as it licked around his mates, Radiance echoing it warmly, a sharp contrast to the screaming desire in Jazz's field.

Radiance moved just as slowly and carefully with Jazz as he had with Prowl, determined to make this lover's mark just as perfect as the first. "Do you like it?" he purred to Prowl when he was finished with the base glyph, leaning back to get a better look before moving onto the smaller details.

"It is beautiful," Prowl purred, stepping closer to slide his hand along Radiance's doorwings. "As is the mech who earned the right to paint it."

Radiance shivered into the touch, head tossing back for a moment as he x-vented heated air before gathering himself back together and returning to his work. "As are the mecha who earned the right to wear it," he murmured, and slipped into silence as his intense concentration on the task took over. 

Prowl and Jazz would both wear the same base glyph, the formal Praxian script of Radiance's designation, but the details filling in around the solid lines couldn't have been more dissimilar. 

Prowl's doorwings bore a design of classic beauty, inspired by ancient scripts and art, inspiring formality down to the last stroke, but for Jazz, Radiance had chosen a different feel. This lover's mark would be whimsical, playful, inspired directly by the abstract art that Jazz loved so much. These lines were less practiced, giving the painter more room to feel out the motion as he worked, creating twisting, sparkling strokes that would almost look like they were moving as Jazz did.

Each created a design perfectly suited to the mech wearing it, a demonstration that as a courter Radiance had done his research and knew them well. When he finished the first doorwing, Prowl tugged on him and Radiance rose easily to his pedes and turned to be drawn away from Jazz and towards the wall the bound mech was facing.

"Take me," Prowl whispered roughly when his back hit the wall and Radiance pressed up against him, loud enough for Jazz to hear clearly. "Take me, fill me, make me scream your designation."

Radiance looked over his shoulder at their trembling mate, flashed a grin at him, before turning back to Prowl and claiming a deep, heated kiss that was returned ardently. He pushed a leg between his lover's thighs, forcing them apart, and pressed his open palm over the center of one of the painted marks, rubbing against his frame. "You know how much that's going to make him _burn_ ," he purred back, spike already nudging up against Prowl's hip. 

Prowl's doorwing pressed back, reveling in the contact and the marking as his valve cover slid open, the heat from the exposure making a noticeably warmer spot on Radiance's leg. "He wants it, I want it. You love it."

Radiance grinned. "I _do_ love it," he agreed, then the grin changed into something much more mischievous. "You know what else he wants," he said in an obviously loud voice, and without warning Prowl, dropped down to his knees and grabbed his lover's hips, pulling them out as he pressed in between the open thighs and pushed his glossa against Prowl's valve, swirling through the platelets and revving his engines at the taste. 

Behind him, the strangled moan that Jazz was able to make even with the vocal inhibitor was reward enough.

"Oh yes, he loves that," Prowl moaned, shivering as he relaxed, willingly compliant with anything his lover wanted. "Imagine he would combust pleasuring both our valves at once."

Radiance lifted his head for a moment to grin up at his mate. "I love that processor of yours," he said, before dipping back in and moaning louder than necessary to let Jazz know _just_ how much he was enjoying this, licking and sucking and teasing until Prowl was quivering above him and Jazz's engine sounded ready to overheat from the sight alone. 

Certain he had Prowl well and completely slicked, Radiance pulled away, pressed his fingers in to get them coated, then stood, bringing Prowl into a kiss and swirling their glossas together, giving his lover a good taste of himself. Once he had Prowl moaning he turned and walked back over to Jazz, kneeling in front of him, holding out the two slick fingers for him to see, then slipped one into his mouth, cleaning it. 

Jazz whined and pulled at the bindings, absolutely fixated. 

"Want it?" Radiance purred, and his mate nodded, _pleading_ with his optics, lips parting. The dark mech cocked his head and considered for a moment, then held the other finger forward and tapped it once against Jazz's lower lip, before he went back to Prowl, who was waiting with bright optics and canted hips. Jazz almost _sobbed_. 

"That was mean," Prowl purred, offering himself. 

Radiance pushed him back into the wall, grabbed his leg and hiked it up to his hip, lined up and _drove_ in, holding as soon as he was buried. "I know," he purred back. 

"He'll get even," Prowl moaned deeply, reveling in the sensation of being filled and used by a mech he was devoted to. "Much as he wants it, he'll get even."

"I know," Radiance grinned, pressing his face against Prowl's neck as he began to rock, losing himself in his lover's frame. "Oh, believe me I know," he moaned, and held onto Prowl as he thrust, making sure to rock his hips for Jazz to see every drive as clearly as possible. He could smell the arousal leeching from the bound mate's frame even from where they stood, and it was a completely intoxicating sensation, one that wrapped around both him and Prowl and kept them pushing and grinding together, gasping within kliks. 

"Overload inside me," Prowl began to moan, the words coming far more for the mech watching than the one thrusting. "Fill me, please. I want to feel you rush inside me, become part of me forever."

"Always," Radiance moaned, and shuddered, the pitch of his gasps going up as he grabbed onto Prowl and put all his focus into overloading them both as quickly as possible. "I'll fill you so hot, lover, know you want it, want me spilling deep-- _so_ deep, _aah_ yes, _yes!_ " he cried, grabbing Prowl's hips and slamming in, shooting transfluid into the back of his valve, holding him as he shook, caught in an overload that had been building slowly for joors. 

He barely felt the keening, shaking, roaring mech he was clinging to as Prowl gave into his pleasure. Prowl's frame crackled and energy flared, but it was his field that spoke the most of his pleasure. It sated him on a level that was far beyond physical and he adored the mech who could give him that sense of inner peace and belonging he craved in a place he wasn't even fully aware of.

When it was over Radiance slumped forward, panting heavily, and Prowl leaned against the wall, the only thing keeping them upright. Radiance shivered through small, tingling aftershocks that were still making his hips twitch forward, and pressed his lips against Prowl's neck. " _Primus_ that felt good," he said, and sighed contentedly, well aware of the effect that sound was going to have on the mate behind him, and couldn't quite stop his grin when he heard the frustrated, desperate growl coming from those engines. 

Prowl's hands slid along Radiance's sides, stroking as they both came down. "That it did," Prowl murmured, his gaze on his bound mate. "Imagine how good it will feel to suck him off while I pound him from behind. Once his wings are sealed."

Radiance's engines rumbled his enjoyment of that idea. "Before or after you take a turn painting him?" he asked, turning so they could look at Jazz together for a moment.

"That depends on whether you want to taste the paint on him," Prowl guided Radiance's face around for a kiss. "It's going to be hot either way."

"It's edible," Radiance grinned. "I want to see the way he _writhes_ with just the brush touching him. Slag, I bet even that will be enough to overload him, he's _so_ charged up, wait until you teek him at close range," he chuckled, and guided Prowl back over to touch the field that Radiance wouldn't have been able to resist if he hadn't just had an intense overload. He pulsed all the sated contentedness that came with that kind of deep release into his field, pressing it to Jazz's fevered one, and purred deeply at the way it made his lover moan and squirm.

"I wonder what would overload him faster, the brush on his spike, or against his valve," Prowl hummed thoughtfully as he knelt and pressed his mouth against Jazz's, claiming a kiss that could rev him up from a cold start. As worked up as their mate already was, it created an almost painful _thrill_ through his field that left no doubt he was fully enjoying what they were doing to him. He pressed back, frame groaning with _want_ , and Radiance chuckled, rubbing up against Prowl.

"I have extra brushes," Radiance purred against Prowl's audial. "We could do both at once."

It was debatable whether Prowl or Jazz shivered more at the thought.

"I do like that idea," Prowl purred deeply. "Should I dig out the inhibitor to make sure he lasts until your painting is finished?"

Radiance's engine rev against him was strong and sharp. "You know how much I love that thing," he chuckled, and grinned at the whine in Jazz's systems. "You know where I keep my toys," he murmured, nipping, then settled himself on Jazz's unpainted side as Prowl stood, pulling the paint and brush for the second doorwing.

Prowl returned a klik later to secure the small, simple device to Jazz's back, stroking plating as he went. "Perhaps the first overload we give should be a wing overload. Tease him back to arousal with my painting and then take him together."

Radiance grinned. "So many choices," he hummed, running his fingers over the smooth surface, carefully feeling it over one last time, Jazz trembling between them. "Would you like that?" he purred to Jazz. "Overloading from just this?" 

Jazz managed a nod, as much as he was able, and his field flared brightly with desire that made both his mates rumble eagerly. 

Radiance shivered, focused, and glanced up at Prowl for a moment. "Let's see if he even makes it that far," he chuckled, before pulling the first stroke down across the clean surface, getting a gasping keen in response, but now that he was painting, the frame was absolutely still.

Prowl moved away to lay on the berth, watching one mate wind the other up to the brink of exploding with need. Just for entertainment's sake, he relaxed and began to tease himself, watching as Jazz's optics locked on the movement. "Getting myself ready for you, love."

Radiance broke his focus for a moment to look over, then revved his own engines in response when he saw the sight spread out before them. "He's learned so well, hasn't he," he murmured to Jazz. "Was a time when he couldn't stand to deny you anything you wanted, and now look at him. You're both so good," he purred, and settled back down into his painting, this time focused on replicating it from the first as exactly as possible. 

Radiance wasn't even sparing the attention to watch Prowl, but for Jazz, the world had narrowed down to the teasing, tickling strokes of blessedly cool paint on his screaming hot armor, and the sight of Prowl spread out on the berth, legs relaxed shamelessly open as he brushed gentle strokes over his equipment. Further from Jazz and his field, he could arouse himself more slowly, but Radiance, caught right in Jazz's field, had no such luxury. 

Spike extended, valve open and dripping, but his hand stayed steady and sure, almost completely unaware of his frame, lost in his work.

A low, resonant moan escaped Prowl when he saw that the wait was finally over. He licked his fingers clean while Radiance put on the final touches and stood when the black mech did. Sliding his arms around Radiance, Prowl purred in his audial. "While that dries, why don't I fill your valve?"

Radiance hummed deeply, head back against Prowl's shoulder as he rubbed their frames together. "Yes, please," he rumbled, hands lifting up and back to rest on Prowl's helm. "He'll have such a good view from here." One leg lifted up, moved back, hips cocked for his lover. "Mm, let's give him a show that will make him explode."

Prowl couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm going to enjoy helping him get even. You are a mean, mean mech, my love." Despite the words, Prowl didn't hesitate to help Radiance balance the pose as he slid into the drenched valve. "So slick and ready, being so steady in his field must have been a torture."

"You have no idea," Radiance moaned deeply, rocking his hips in answer, sinking down onto the familiar spike. "But worth it, oh _Primus_ was it worth it," he breathed, taking in the sight of his painted mate, wearing his designation for all to see, fully and rightfully claimed. He groaned as Prowl pulled out, cycling and rippling around the well-known textures and ridges, squeezing in a pattern he'd taken decades to perfect. "No idea how much it means to let me paint you," he managed, gripping Prowl tightly.

"Likely as much as it means to us that you want to," Prowl moaned, losing himself to the pleasure of his frame and the intensity of Jazz's field. "As much as it will to see you wearing ours." The words made his lover shake in his arms, already close to undone. 

"Want that!" Radiance gasped. "Make me yours as I've made you mine, make us one, I, _I--!_ " He shouted and seized back against his lover, entire frame shaking in an overload that rushed through all his systems and jumped back over to Prowl, who keened and gripped, driving in as they clung together. Their energy washed out over Jazz, hitting the overheating systems and making their lover sob before they sank down in front of him together. 

When Radiance found himself again as the pleasured daze receded, he onlined his vision to see his transfluid covering Jazz's face, slowly running down around his lips. "Primus," he breathed, relaxing back. 

"You were seriously wound up," Prowl chuckled, content to be lazy for a bit longer. "It's not often a valve overload will trigger your spike too."

"Don't I know it," Radiance purred, watching as Jazz met his visor with bright optics and licked his lips clean in slow, careful motions, each one designed to tempt and entice. "Paint should be dry, hot as he is." He roused himself, leaning in to kiss Jazz fully on the mouth, getting a lingering taste of himself. "Would you like some relief, my love?" 

Jazz moaned deeply, shuddering.

Prowl got himself off the floor. "Wing overload, put on the sealant, tease him back up to temperature, then pin him between us?"

"Yes," Radiance all but moaned at the idea along with Jazz, his fingers dipping down to the vocal inhibitor on his mate's throat and unlocking it, letting it fall, and silenced Jazz's first pleas with a deep kiss, slipping his glossa forward against Jazz's and revving at the wanting shudders in the frame. "Would you like that, my love?" he purred, and brushed a single finger up the length of Jazz's spike. 

" _Yes,_ " Jazz sobbed, straining against the bindings. "Radiance please _please_ I want you!" 

Radiance grinned and stood, moving around opposite to Prowl, stroking over the quivering doorwings. "So tense," he murmured, before reaching down and unhooking the inhibitor, and then slowly ran his hands down over the right sensor panel, caressing. Prowl moved in perfect tandem with him on the other side, sending a maelstrom of sensation into Jazz's overwhelmed sensor net. He cried out between them and arched as far as he was able, wings flexing out as hard as they could into their hands, seeking as much pressure as possible.

His lovers obliged, touching and stroking the burning hot plating, leaving Jazz panting within kliks, trembling right on the edge of an overload. "Voice!" he gasped, desperate. "Please let me-- _please--!_ "

Prowl leaned in, right next to Jazz's helm and purred. "I love you. I always will, my beautiful Saxo."

The physical _crack_ of energy that flooded through Jazz before exploding out was enough to make both of his mates shake when it hit them, bright arcs of static connecting their frames to his anywhere that was within a hand's breadth, the electric sizzle almost loud enough to drown out even Jazz's scream as he finally overloaded, relief and joy flooding his field in the next moment before the tension drained out and he would have collapsed if not for the bindings keeping him upright. 

Optics flickered with dim light, still online but just barely, Jazz fighting the reboot his systems were trying to drop into, panting through loose armor, sucking in air and cycling it through as fast as his systems could manage. "Love you," he managed, speaking through static, and then huffed a laugh. "Gonna make you pay for that." 

"We're looking forward to it," Prowl purred deeply.

"We are not done with you," Radiance purred back, looking at Prowl. "Do you have an extra brush to use?"

"Of course," Prowl played at looking offended at the idea he might not have planned for everything. "You start on the sealant. I'll start on winding him back up."

Jazz hummed and settled, purring at the first strokes of the clear finish that would lock Radiance's mark in on his wings until it was later dissolved during their bonding ceremony. Prowl came back in front of him and Jazz grinned, mood much improved for being one overload in. "Gonna get me all painted up as yours, lover?"

"Some _private_ parts of you, at least," Prowl smiled and knelt. His brush came out and spiraled up the deeply ruffled spike that his valve had been designed for.

Ripples of pleasure tickled through Jazz's field, bright notes against the deep, calm contentment that was the rest of him. "What do you think of painting each other properly, for our next century anniversary? We sort of skipped right over any kind of ceremony at the time."

"I would like that a great deal," Prowl purred, dipping the brush into some leftover paint and beginning a simple but exacting fractal design. "We missed so many ceremonies with how events occurred."

"Yes," Jazz moaned, his frame trying to push into the cool, teasing touches from both his lovers. "Do everything right this time." 

"I would enjoy knowing you had that," Radiance said softly as he moved around to the second wing, pressing a kiss to Jazz's shoulder before he started applying the sealant. "I think that's a memory you two deserve together." 

Jazz trilled in happy agreement. "You would be there, love, you would remember it with us."

Radiance smiled. "Not many get to witness their pair's painting ritual beyond memory, I would be honored."

"Then we will have a _very_ enjoyable time in a hundred vorns ... and every vorn leading up to it," Prowl vented hot air onto Jazz's spike, setting the layer of paint he'd applied. "Though we will have to work hard to top this evening," he mused, tickling Jazz's platelets with the brush. "So many good memories."

Jazz squirmed and gasped. "That sounds like a challenge," he purred, then hummed when Prowl circled slowly around the quivering opening, dipping just a little in without ever fully penetrating, making the walls clench and ripple around thin air, trying to grasp something that wasn't there. 

Radiance chuckled. "And if anyone is going to rise to a challenge, it's you two with figuring out how to pleasure each other," he teased. "Primus, you're like a pair of mechlings sometimes." 

"As if you don't love it," Jazz teased back, and Radiance only grinned, then rocked back to look at the doorwing before subspacing everything and coming around to lean against Prowl, watching him work their lover back up.

"That's lovely," he purred as soon as he saw the design on Jazz's spike and the one Prowl was now creating beneath. "I look forward to seeing what you've designed for me."

"I look forward to wearing all this off of him before we decorate you," Prowl grinned devilishly. "Just how wound up do we want to get him before we sate ourselves?"

Radiance looked at the wanting gleam in Jazz's optics and grinned. "I want his spike _aching_ ," he said, and then reached out, running his hand along Prowl's arm until his fingers covered his mate's, holding loosely around the brush and feeling the heat radiating from the equipment. "He's already burning," he purred. "It's almost a wonder nothing's melted yet."

"He's made of much stronger stuff," Prowl smiled and stood to walk around to Jazz's backside and began teasing him with the brush once more. "I think your magnets do a lovely job of heating him up quickly."

The flash across Radiance's visor was as wickedly pleased with the suggestion as Jazz's moan was longing and desperate. 

"You think so too, lovely one?" Radiance purred to his mate, leaning in to nip a kiss from Jazz's mouth as he lowered his hands, cupping one just a finger's width away from the slick valve and curling the other around the spike without touching it and turned the systems on, immediately getting a keen from the bound mech. 

"Not...nice!" Jazz gasped, shaking.

"But very, very hot," Prowl rumbled as his spike cover retracted and his spike slid out. "I'll fill you and he'll suck when you beg sweetly enough."

Jazz groaned, torn between pushing his hips back to ask for the spike he knew was so close and trying to move forward into the teasing hands that were moving so slowly, coaxing shudder after shudder out of his frame, stimulating sensors while never once touching. 

"Oh, lover, he's dripping," Radiance purred suddenly, and drew his hand away, licking up the lubricant that had fallen onto his palm, then reached back under to slide his fingers through the soaked platelets, making Jazz choke, before reaching around to offer a taste to Prowl. 

"Please," Jazz moaned, the ropes binding him creaking under the strength he was exerting against them. "Please, my loves, my everything, need you!" 

"I think that's almost there," Radiance said, lowering hands back down and amping the current. Jazz spasmed, a full-frame shudder that came with optics flaring bright white and the sound of a vocalizer that was cracked with static. 

" _Please!_ " Jazz sobbed, the single word almost incomprehensible through the current of interference coursing through him. 

"You'd better touch him," Prowl growled, angling his hips to slide home into his mate, slow and smooth, making Jazz moan in sudden, sweeping relief to finally be filled, and then again when Radiance first wrapped his fingers, and then his lips, around the painted spike, swallowing easily.

Jazz's engines whined and his vents clicked and strained as he shook between the two. "Love you," he cried, and when Radiance squeezed his intake and Prowl rocked behind him he seized up in overload, screaming in bliss even as the world blacked out.

Jazz moaned as he began to boot again, his frame free of bindings and sprawled on top of Radiance, his legs wide and feeling so very, very full of movement.

"There he is," Radiance rumbled, engines giving a deep, pleased growl that accompanied a deep, stretching _pull_ that made Jazz groan to feel. 

"'Tera," he mumbled, reaching back, dimly aware that his lover was behind him, immediately recognizing the feel of his mates' spikes filling him, and he sighed in deep, deep contentment, head against Radiance's chest. "Radiance."

"Saxo, right where you belong, between us, pleasuring us, pleasured by us," Prowl moaned, his charge already built high enough that control was a fragile thing.

A protoform-deep shiver of agreement was Jazz's answer as he began cycling his valve around the wonderful, perfect, aching stretch that this experience always was. It made both his lovers groan and press deeper, sliding against each other with no resistance, three frames joined as one, deep in perfect ecstasy. 

"You look so beautiful with my mark on you," Radiance moaned, one hand gripping Prowl's, the other holding Jazz by the waist. "Both of you, so perfect."

"You'll have ours," Jazz purred, slowly regaining the strength in his frame enough to shift up and take Radiance in a deep kiss. "Triad, marked and sealed." 

Radiance's hips jerked up, the force of those words making his entire frame arch up as he cried out. "Close!" 

"Triad," Prowl moaned, shuddering as he lost his grip on self-control and thrust deep and hard before overloading with a roaring keen and spill of transfluid that hit both his lovers hard.

Radiance tumbled after him with his own sharp cry as soon as the energy-charged liquid touched his spike, bucking up and gripping tightly, slamming into Jazz, who arched his back, pushed down, and shuddered in an overload triggered just by being caught between the pulsing fields of energy. 

This time it was Radiance's vision that was flickering by the time they had all collapsed into an undignified heap as he tried to stay online. "Triad," he murmured, exhausted, to his lovers' purrs of agreement.

"Recharge, my love," Prowl cooed to him as he carefully pulled out of Jazz's frame to sink to the side. "We will paint you when we've recovered."

Radiance nodded and gratefully slipped into the bliss of recharge, nestled between his mates.

* * *

Jazz hummed, pleased, as he passed the ties they were using to bind their recharging mate around his frame to Prowl, who crossed it with another line, wove them together in a series of knots, and then passed back around to Jazz. 

"Can't believe he hasn't booted yet," Jazz said, grinning, as he made the finishing touches, pulling the wings back and anchoring them in place around Radiance's ankles, which were also attached to his wrists.

"Because it's us," Prowl shivered, his doorwings fluttering at the level of trust implicit in what had just happened. "He trusts us that much. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes," Jazz purred, nuzzling the back of Radiance's neck. They'd managed to clean and polish their lover's doorwings, move him off the berth, get him into the traditional pose and finish all the binding without Radiance's systems ever sensing any reason for him to come online. "I still sometimes can't believe we found him. We weren't even looking."

"I know," Prowl actually moaned softly at the thought of how close it had been to not happening. "If he wasn't looking to recruit you, he would have never gotten close enough to want this, or for us to want him." He leaned in, kneeling before his bound mate, and kissed Radiance soundly. "Wake, my lovely Radiance." He stroked black cheek plates while Jazz kissed down the center of the curved back and waited for the system response.

It came quickly, ready as always to respond to that voice and these fields once something was asked of him, and before long, the visor was flickering on and Radiance was lifting his head, taking careful stock of his position, before his engines rumbled deeply. "You have been productive," he purred, not in the least bit worried by the fact that he had been completely immobilized in his recharge and was now effectively helpless before these two mecha. 

"We are eager," Jazz purred back, brushing his hands over the smooth planes that would very soon bear their mark for the world to see.

"It was fun," Prowl added with another kiss, revving Radiance's engine further. "Seeing how utterly and completely you trust us. It was wonderful."

"I trust you with my spark," Radiance said, and flared his field out warmly to both of them as he nuzzled back against Prowl. "Your mark," he murmured, unable to hide just how much he wanted that from them. "Please, let me know I've earned it." 

"You have," Jazz told him, arms wrapping around his frame and holding him tightly. "More than earned it. We can think of no other who is even worthy."

Prowl joined the embrace, resting his face against Radiance's neck and allowed his field, rich with trust and devotion, to speak for him.

Soon they untangled with kisses. "It is time to mark you as _ours_ for all the world to see," Prowl rumbled, possessive, proud and very eager as he slid his visor down, giving his mate the sight he most desired, just as Radiance had offered Prowl his optics.

"So lovely," Radiance breathed, and leaned forward for just one more kiss before Prowl answered the come-hither trill that Jazz gave him from where he had shifted to the first wing, and was now pressing soft kisses all over the sensitive metal.

"You will show everyone who you belong to, love," Prowl rumbled softly, the vibrations humming across Radiance's plating as Jazz pulled out a container of blue tinted silver and Prowl brought out pure gold. "You will show everyone how much we value you."

Radiance shivered through the words, then x-vented slowly, and carefully stilled his frame. He was just as responsible for holding still as his mates were for moving with steady hands. "I want that," he murmured, head bowed and visor dimmed, submitting completely. 

Jazz's pleased purr was intoxicating to hear. "You've helped us heal," the youngest of their triad said softly. "We were broken in ways we couldn't even see, not even in each other." The first touch of paint to his frame made Radiance give a deep, contented groan, his spark swelling almost painfully in his chest with the enormity of this moment. 

"You captured me," Radiance said as a second brush joined in, swirling with the first.

"You will be so perfect, displaying this to all. That you are ours, and we value you enough to mark you, and have you mark us," Prowl sank into a semi-trance as he worked, his frame moving with the absolute precision of being past thought, yet his field was warm and thick with his emotions. Even held in check by the hack, they ran deep and potent.

Radiance sank into a trance of sorts as well, a meditation to steady his frame, but the sensation of a second consistency of paint snapped him out of it to pay more attention to the fine brush Prowl was now using.

It was following along the already painted lines, decorative glyphs representing their assumed designations woven together, feeling like it was adding highlights as Jazz began to fill in some of the empty spaces with more whimsical feeling strokes. "Feels good," Radiance murmured, recording the experience in the highest detail possible, letting this wash away all his memories of the first time he'd been painted, firmly integrating _this_ as what this experience should feel like. 

"Looks beautiful," Jazz said, field bright with pure, unfiltered joy.

"You have healed us, and we have healed you," Prowl smiled as he worked. "It is all a work in progress. We will succeed."

"Yes," Radiance sighed, grateful for the bindings that were helping him stay upright as every joint in his frame wanted to go lax. There was safety here, and trust, and understanding that reached beyond words. It was everything the sparkling tales said a triad was, far more than he ever dreamed was possible.

"No matter how long it takes," Jazz murmured, and his brush lifted away as he stopped to look over their work, the painting nearly finished except for a few of the smaller details that Prowl was still adding in. He trilled softly, pleased, when Prowl finished a few kliks later.

"He is so relaxed," Prowl commented. "Rather like I was. It seems a shame to ruin such a state."

Jazz smiled as they leaned against each other, running fingers over the top of the wing, stroking gently. "It's not like we don't have centuries to pay him back," he hummed, before leaning in and brushing a kiss over where his fingers had just been before nipping harder at the metal. "But don't think I'm not going to pay you back." 

"Wouldn't dream of it," Radiance purred, utterly content in this moment to do whatever they wanted.

Prowl leaned in to capture Jazz's attention with a long, warm kiss. "Let's paint his other wing, then _we_ can work out the kinks while it dries. If this brings him peace, then all the better."

Jazz moaned and pushed back into the kiss for a long moment. "Yes, please," he murmured against his mate's mouth, before they moved together to start on the second wing, relaxing back into that almost trance-like state together, all three fields mixing in easy, comfortable silence. Safe, together, as close to one as their frames would allow them to become. 

They put the finishing touches on their work and then subspaced all the paint and brushes to be cleaned later, and moved around front, each of them claiming a kiss from their dazed-feeling mate. 

"Love you," Radiance whispered, overwhelmed.

"As we love you," Prowl stroked the side of his face, his visor still down so Radiance could look at the visage that he found so attractive. When he drew back it was to pull Jazz down on top of him, his valve cover open and desire in his field. "Fill me, love," he claimed a kiss from Jazz.

Engines rumbled deeply in response as Jazz covered his mate, slipping his glossa forward and pressing it to Prowl's, each of them playing off the other as he settled himself between the parted thighs. "Only too gladly," he purred and slipped in, moving long and slow, rocking over his mate for Radiance to see. 

The golden visor slowly brightened as he watched, doorwings shifted up, field began to flicker with desire, but not so much that he felt the need to beg, or even ask to join in, utterly content to wait until they could all stretch out in their berth together. It was an amazing feeling, to simply be content all the way down to his spark. He understood now that on some level he'd always known something was less than perfect with his prior efforts. To his core, he understood what triad could be and he reveled in that knowledge.

Watching his mates make love before him was a gorgeous sight, not a torment, something to be treasured as a gift, a kind of living artwork, and something he would cherish for his entire existence.


	35. Courting in Praxus: Snapshots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This chapter is, as the title suggests, a series of snapshots from throughout the courting. There is a back-in-time scene near the end, should be easy to spot. :)

"Surprised Mortar hasn't called you two yet," Jazz said as he stretched out on the berth before snuggling back in with his lovers, two mornings after they'd booted up after the painting ritual, and they still hadn't left Radiance's apartment.

"He knows what's going on," Radiance purred. "And we were due for some off orns with you. He pretends like he doesn't, but he schedules us overtime when you're underground on purpose so they match up better." He stretched and hummed. "But we should probably actually leave the apartment today. If my creators don't hear from us soon they're going to come over here and we _don't_ want that."

Prowl chuckled lowly and kissed his neck. "Or maybe _we_ do. A display of how good we are to you that we can distract you that much."

"Yes, but if we stay here, we will stay in berth, and if we stay in berth, you know what will happen, and before we know it, they will be breaking in and _I_ \--" He rolled over on top of Prowl, pressing a searing kiss, "I will be buried to the hilt in one of you and we'll have to stop halfway through and I _know_ none of us want that." 

"Right," Jazz said, sitting up. "So the sooner we visit them the sooner we can get back here."

Prowl hummed and moaned into another kiss as his leg slid up along Radiance's hip, his valve bared and slick with lubricant and transfluid. "Yes, we can get back sooner, and back to enjoying each other."

Radiance growled and shuddered as the heat and scent of his mate hit him, spike starting to nudge out and rub against his thigh. "Are you trying to make this difficult?" 

Jazz's hands settled on Radiance's hips. "I'm sure we have enough time for _one_ overload, right?" 

"It's their normal off orn," Radiance sighed, slumping, face against Prowl's neck. "They could realistically be here any klik, and Brava enjoys giving no notice for a home invasion." He rolled his optics. "So I don't have time to hide anything."

"I hope you don't want to hide us," Prowl smiled with a lighter kiss, but closed his valve cover and shifted to get up. "We can wipe up, comm them that we're coming over and head to the washrack to clean up."

Radiance pulled him into a deeper kiss before he could get all the way off the berth. "I absolutely do not want to hide you. But I will survive if I don't have to endure the adoring teasing mixed in with recounting of embarrassing tales of my first attempts at interfacing while they compare my current appearance..." He glanced down at himself ruefully.

"We'd hate to have you expire from embarrassment before we bond," Jazz gave him a warm kiss and complied with getting up, and with the almost professional way Prowl helped them all clean up enough to make it to the resident washrack for the building. It took some doing, but a mixture of willpower and the strict no public interfacing rules managed to get the triad out and over to Radiance's creators' home. 

Contact opened the door with a knowing smile. "Hello," he said warmly, looking over all of them with shining optics. "You look very freshly washed," he added with a chuckle, hugging Radiance tightly. "You didn't have to come over, you know, Brava and Mira were just getting ready to storm your place." He leaned back with a mischievous glimmer. 

"Why do you think we're here?" Radiance grinned. 

"I stalled them for you," Contact added in a conspiratorial whisper, then looked over to Jazz and Prowl. "All right, now let's have a look at you three." 

They all spread their doorwings out for him to see. 

A delighted, high-pitched trill from behind Contact announced the pastel-accented femme who had finally realized her creation was at the door, and was tackling him in a hug.

"Hello Mira," Prowl greeted her as she began checking out the work on her creation's doorwings and dragging him into the home all at the same time.

"Hiya," she grinned cheerful at him, looking back from where she was forcefully guiding Radiance along. "Hi Saxo! Brava's upstairs, she was just loading all her weapons." 

"She was _not_ loading her weapons," Radiance said, as dryly as he could manage as he was pushed into a sit and Mira held one of his doorwings out, examining more closely. 

"You're right," Contact smirked. "She was sharpening her daggers." 

Mira grinned at him, then looked over at the pair still leaning in the doorway. "Oh, and our Radiance is such an artist, isn't he?"

"I've always thought so," Brava said in her deep purr, arriving behind them. She gave Prowl a fond nuzzle, nodded to Jazz, and then joined Mira in looking at the multi-colored design on their creation. 

"We thought you might be painting," Contact said with his normal quiet smile as Jazz and Prowl sat on either side of Radiance.

"It was time," Prowl purred, proud of his work and all that had gone into it. "It's very nice to no longer need to downplay how important he is to us."

"Those were fun orns," Mira sighed happily as she leaned against Brava. "You look so perfect together, all three of you." 

"As perfect as his creators do," Jazz said, grinning at them, and obediently held his doorwings out as the attention shifted to his design. 

"This is impressive work," Brava said, examining the playful lines that were so different from Prowl's. "You've been practicing."

"Diligently," Radiance affirmed, leaning back, one arm around each of his mates. "It had to be perfect."

"And well thought out," Mira added as she examined Prowl's design. "It suits them well."

Brava hummed, then looked at her creation. "All right, you, up. Come on, let's get a better look." 

Radiance stood obediently and held still as Brava leaned in to look closely at the paint, touching all four colors, looking between the identical but flipped designs. "For having four colors, this is some of the highest quality paint I've seen," she finally announced, once she was through with her inspection, and looked at her mates. "You remember what just one mid range color cost?"

"Too well," Contact groaned as Mira giggled. He turned a mock glare on her. "I had to get twice as much as you two did on half the budget!"

"I'm impressed," Brava said simply, looking at Prowl.

"There is no better reason to spend the credits I earn than on my mates, and this is _important_ ," he said seriously. "The investments that provided for the home Saxo and I share, and soon Radiance will have the rights to, provided credits for this as well."

"I am glad to see you're taking it seriously," Brava complimented. "I would not stand for anything less." 

"We know," Jazz said, leaning against Prowl, hand on his chest and head on his shoulder. "We all wanted to do this the right way." He grinned. "And now that we've painted, we can start being seen with him in public. And you." 

Mira perked. "Saxo--"

Jazz grinned hugely. "Oh yes. We are going to have some fun."

"Dare I even ask doing what?" Prowl said warily.

"We have plans," Mira said cheerfully. 

"Dancing plans," Jazz added. 

"The coding is still strong?" Brava asked, refocusing back on the triad. 

"It's still strong," Radiance said, settling his wings back down, and accepted the hug that Contact gave him, embracing him in return. "It's _stronger._ "

"It's wonderful," Prowl added with a resonant purr and nuzzled Radiance as he sat down. "I never want to let this go."

"Primus save me, new triad mates in love," Brava said, tilting her head back with a groan while Contact tried to hide his smile. 

"Oh, I've heard some stories about you courting Mira that put us to shame," Jazz said with a grin. 

"Remember there are mecha who knew all of you as unbonded mecha," Prowl chuckled low in his chest. "Mecha who are happy to share stories."

"I dare them to try," Brava rumbled deeply. 

"Don't forget one of those mecha is me," Mira trilled, grinning invitingly. 

"Don't think you're immune," Brava purred, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her flush. "I just get to punish you in more interesting ways."

"Is that so?" Mira purred back, then looked past her mate at Jazz. "So Saxo, this one time, she--" Anything else she might have said was cut off by a muffled squeak when Brava kissed her full on the mouth and slipped their glossas together.

"Hush," Brava purred to her, and Mira trilled back, going a little limp. 

"Darlings," Contact chuckled. "Sit down before you make a scene."

"Or don't," Prowl rumbled with a grin as Jazz leaned in to steal a kiss from Radiance. "It gives us grounds to make a scene ourselves."

"We can do both," Brava rumbled back and brought Mira down into her lap as she sat next to Contact, giving him an unrepentant grin.

Contact gave her an exasperated look that didn't hold up for very long before he smirked and then looked back at his creation and his mates. "You've been out of your berth, what, a groon or two now?" 

"Something like," Radiance grinned, easily reading the mood that his creators were shifting into. 

"That's pretty admirable for a new triad," Mira remarked, squirming playfully in Brava's grip, making the darker femme growl and hold tighter, hips shifting up. 

"What do you think, has he fulfilled his creatorial obligations?" Contact asked, running a finger up along Mira's side, making her giggle and twist, getting an engine rev from Brava. 

Brava snorted, looking up and down Mira's frame as her mate began moving with ever more mischievous and seductive intent in her lap. "He got himself clean and out of berth, I'm pretty damn impressed." 

"So I can go?" Radiance asked, perking, his mates along with him.

"Yeah, go on," Contact chuckled. "Or stay if you like, you're always welcome to the guest room." 

"I think we need to finish _exploring_ his home," Jazz purred with unrepentant glee as he stood, pulling a very unresisting Radiance with him, Prowl smoothly in synch with the motion.

Brava snickered. "His place has three rooms and less than half a dozen surfaces and I'm sure you've 'faced on all of them by now." 

Jazz grinned at her. "To be fair, we've only used the berth in the last three orns, so maybe we need to refresh our memory of the others." 

"And one wall, and the berthroom floor," Prowl added.

"Oh yeah, and those," Jazz agreed. "Um... and maybe you could count that one time up against the dispenser, though I'm not sure if it counts since--"

"Go!" all three of Radiance's creators said in unison, and Radiance laughed, all too gladly letting his mates drag him back home.

* * *

Whiplash had gotten far easier to get an audience with since Jazz had started working for him, Radiance mused as he waited, reclining on a lounge, for the ISO Commander to show up. In the past he'd had to keep tabs on a potential recruit for metacycles at a time while waiting for the matte black mech to make it to this city, but first training and now apparently mentoring Jazz seemed to have based him more solidly in Praxus than ever before. 

That being said, Radiance frowned as he checked his chronometer. He was still late.

The door slid open silently, only the barest _whoosh_ warning of the event and the small, lithe mech stepped inside. "Did you really need to make my interrogator look so _pretty_?"

Radiance tilted his head back to look at him with a huge grin, making no effort to rise for the other mech. "He does look pretty, doesn't he?"

"He looks utterly _un_ intimidating," Whiplash grumbled, his arms crossed as he glared down at his recruiter. "Interrogators should look the part."

"You're not telling me that you can't teach him how to be intimidating even with pretty wings?" Radiance asked innocently. 

"I shouldn't have to," Whiplash scowled. "Why'd you have to make it look so whimsical?"

"Because he _is_ ," Radiance said, sitting up and turning so he could face Whiplash directly. "That's part of what makes him so good, you try telling me it isn't." 

The commander of Imperial Special Operations snorted. "It is. So is his unrepentant sadism and work ethic. I assume there's a reason you're here? I'm sure it wasn't to listen to me grumble about your artwork."

"Artwork?" Radiance grinned as he pulled out a drive with the potential recruit's personal--and criminal--file on it. "You think it's artwork?" 

"You know it is," Whiplash huffed and took the drive, making quick work of scanning it.

"He's in precinct holding," Radiance said, gesturing to the drive. "Mech can talk his way out of anything, damn near almost got Mortar to let him out, figure you could use that for something. And you know, I think that's the first time you've ever said anything nice to me," he added with a flashing grin to match his visor. 

"Is not," Whiplash countered. "I'll send Tango to check him out. One grifter to another."

"All right, maybe it's not," Radiance said, flopping back down and cocking his head up at the other mech. "But you only started saying them _after_ I started fragging your protégé."

"You do a lot more than frag him and we both know it," Whiplash corrected him, annoyed with the truth but just as willing to take advantage of it. "Valuable as he is, he's unstable. You and his mate keep him level enough to work here."

Radiance hummed and nodded, also willing to concede that truth. "I notice you didn't deny that he _is_ your protégé."

"I haven't denied that in a long time," Whiplash shrugged. "I don't train that many myself anymore. He has astounding potential and is finally gaining the self assurance he needs to become an officer around here."

"Well good," Radiance said, still grinning as he relaxed back to wait for the escort that would lead him back to the surface. "Hopefully you can come to forgive me for making him look so pretty then."

* * *

In the warmth of late morning with little traffic to slow mecha down, Prowl settled himself near the end of a long stretch of straight, downhill road. It was just the kind of place that mecha tended to build up too much speed. He'd already had a profitable joor with three stops resulting in tickets when he clocked his next target going almost half again the posted limits. Lights flashing he pulled into traffic, calling it in as mecha scattered before him, most dutifully moving right, then continuing on their way when Prowl didn't stop behind them.

The speeder, though, immediately realized who he was and brake lights came on right away as he slowed down and signaled that he would pull over in the next available turn off. He transformed immediately once he had, looking incredibly embarrassed as he turned to face the Enforcer coming up behind him. "Hey, officer," he greeted when Prowl transformed, sounding chagrined.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?" Prowl asked formally, though he was privately grateful at once more encountering a well-mannered citizen. These stops continued to remind him that no matter how many criminals he encountered, the majority of citizens intended to be law abiding.

"Random safety awareness stops?" the mech asked hopefully, and when Prowl's expression didn't change, drooped a little. "Yeah, I was goin' pretty fast." 

"Thirty-eight over the limit," Prowl confirmed, running the ID ping he got through the system. He felt a flicker of genuine surprise when he realized that this was the first time the mech, Azure, had been pulled over, and he wasn't all that young. "Is there a reason you were moving so fast?"

Azure scuffed his pede on the ground. "Ah, no, um, it's just, you get goin' real fast on that hill, y'know? Fun to fly through here once you've picked up speed." He offered Prowl a rueful grin.

"Yes, and that is why we have so many race tracks in Praxus," Prowl reminded him and began to fill out the ticket on a datapad.

Azure just sighed and nodded, not protesting the ticket in the slightest in field or frame even though some officers might have been inclined to let him skirt by.

"You may contest the ticket or the fine at the listed date and time at the municipal courthouse," Prowl said by rote. "As a first time offender, you may be granted leniency by the judge."

Azure nodded and held his hand out to accept the citation, then cleared his vocalizer out as Prowl turned to leave. "Officer?"

"Yes?" Prowl turned back, part of him tense as that setup had more than once gotten an officer shot.

"Didn't want you to think I was tryin' t'get out of a ticket or anything or I woulda said so right off, but congratulations," the mech said with a warm smile reading through his field as he gestured at Prowl's doorwings. "Those are beautiful paintings, I mean _really_ beautiful paintings."

Prowl's stern features softened with a small smile. "Thank you," he flared his doorwings to show them off a bit more, honestly very proud to have been painted so well, before he transformed to show off one door that much better and then entered the traffic stream to set up for another speeder.

* * *

Jazz raised a mental optic ridge when he picked up the file for the next room on his docket and glanced over the build of the mech inside. Big, much bigger than he was. Another quick look over the objectives--break the mech down until he cried like a youngling, essentially; he was too prideful to be of any use right now, but there was potential--and Jazz palmed the door open and walked in, facing his strung-up subject silently, calm and relaxed. 

"Here with my energon?" the mech rumbled, dark orange optics locked on Jazz, taking the Praxian's measure.

Jazz grinned, cocking his head and letting his visor catch the light with a flash across it. "Nah, but by the time we're done here I might be considerin' sendin' you ta go fetch me some. If you're not crying too hard by then, dunno, ya don't strike me as much." 

"You? You're my interrogator?" The big mech laughed. "A mech who's painted all pretty in love. How can you possibly be worth anything in here?"

Jazz brightened, ignoring the last question as he lifted his wings to better display them, turning a little so the mech could see the full display of the paint shimmering in the light. "They are rather pretty, aren't they?" he asked, before turning once in a classical dance spin and ending in a low, graceful bow. "I like the sparklin' effect, myself."

The mech simply stared at him, bewildered to the point of showing it.

"Aww, sunshine," Jazz said, pouting with mock disappointment. "Holdin' out on me, come on, normally I get cat called for that move. Guess you just wanna get down to it?" He pulled out his most elegant dagger, the one Radiance had given him, resting it against one fingertip and spinning. "I'm s'posed ta teach ya some humility, how d'ya think that's gonna go?"

The big mech snorted. "Ain't no one's done it yet."

"Excellent," Jazz purred. "Guess that makes me the first, I _love_ being the first." He stepped up to the convoy class that was nearly twice his size, tilting his head back to look up at him. "They cry harder that way." 

He got another derisive snort in response. "You are way too pretty and tiny for that."

"And that," Jazz said, his ornately painted doorwings lifting eagerly, "Is where you are wrong."

* * *

Prowl slammed on his breaks, lights and sirens going live as he transformed, skidded and tumbled to bleed off momentum in the middle of traffic before transforming again and breaking almost every traffic law known to Cybertronian kind as he rushed towards a shady part of town and the explosive firefight underway. The emergency call had been broadcast over the entire precinct network and Prowl logged the ID of the source, immediately matching it up to Charade, Radiance's SIC. 

Not Radiance himself. 

::Officers down, pinned down, number and location unknown, approach with extreme caution!:: came the next message along with an underlying transmission asking for medical transit and emergency responders. 

It was Prowl's second worst nightmare, coming right after being captured by Vortex. Though no ID was given of who was down, it didn't take a processor as fine as his to know that the only reason the SIC would make the call was if the CO was out of commission.

Prowl's engine redlined, his speed too high for many to get out of his way. He simply dodged around them, even into oncoming traffic lanes, or transformed to run through traffic that was too thick. He could see the IR signature of his destination long before he got close. The sounds of blaster fire and thick comm chatter blanketed his awareness as he processed it all, creating a mental map of what was going on.

Three blocks away he forced himself to stop and really assess that map. Service blaster in hand, he moved more carefully towards the nearest target he calculated was an enemy, got a visual on him, and fired a single shot. He was moving again before the frame even fell.

More Enforcers were coming in to the growing net that was shrinking in around the abandoned warehouse, each of them calling in sightings and kills that were starting to show a fairly large number of gang mecha that had surrounded the SWAT team trapped inside. 

It took a painfully long time for any of them to get close enough to even see, but the first who came even with the barrier they were slowly taking out broadcasted what he could see from his vantage point, a mostly collapsed building with smoke and what looked like chemical fire, and the IR of four mecha huddled inside, barely discernable from the surrounding heat, and a clearer fifth form that was much cooler than the rest. Weaponfire became audible from there in, both coming in and out of the building. Engagement protocol forbade comming any mecha possibly under fire, so that left the ten or so Enforcers on the outside to guess about what was happening. 

::Down, _down!_ :: came the sudden call from one of the closer Enforcers as a flurry of activity broke out, Prowl just barely dodging blasterfire from one of the fleeing gangmecha before returning his own, making a direct hit. ::They've seen us, they're scattering!::

In less than three kliks, a time that felt like an eternity to the officers in and outside the warehouse, the gangmecha were gone. Most were being chased by multiple officers, but Prowl hung back. He was good at the chase, good at catching what he hunted, but he was far too worried about Radiance to care about those fleeing. If they weren't between him and his mate, he no longer cared about them. On a level he knew it was wrong for an Enforcer to react that way, but he was a mech too, and becoming more normal by the vorn when it came to his reactions towards his mates.

::Where the FRAG is my medical transport!:: came Charade's enraged comm, still broadcast over the entire net even as he signaled an all clear, safe to approach. 

Prowl reached the building in less than a klik, still hearing the sirens of the chasing Enforcers in the background, but also the distinguishable sound of a medic en route. A battered pair, two of Radiance's crew, stood outside, each of them with injuries and scorch marks but nothing spark-threatening. They saw Prowl and silently pointed inside, through the doorway that was still billowing smoke. 

He almost tripped over the graying frame, or what was left of it, his spark clenching painfully in his chest before he looked into the rest of the destroyed room and saw two mecha, Charade the only one upright, and the black and gold one that Prowl was looking for in the SIC's arms. He looked like he'd been dragged there from the doorway, if the energon trail was any indication. The visor was flickering and Radiance was gripping his officer's arm, face set in an agonized grimace. 

Prowl was on them in a sparkbeat, a combination of Enforcer and Seneschal coding roaring to take over the first aid of the badly damaged mech. "Stay with us," he kept his voice level, his field calm as he worked, not even thinking about what his hands were doing as his mind focused on keeping his mate functioning. "Medic's on the way. What happened?" He glanced at either, trying to keep them from going into shock.

"Not even sure," Charade grunted, shifting Radiance's rigid frame as carefully as he could. "S'posed to be routine seizure, soon as we got in there was an explosion. These two caught the worst of it..." His optics flickered over to the frame that was more or less in pieces. "Then we were being fired on from every direction. Oh, yeah..." he muttered as Prowl came up against a shoulder that had no arm attached to it. "'S back by the door."

Prowl nodded and quickly slipped away to retrieve it. Often a limb could be reattached rather than rebuilt. It saved time, cost and recovery stress. When he knelt back down in front of the pair, hearing the medics outside talking to the waiting pair, Radiance's hand shifted over from Charade to grab his wrist, painfully tight and shaking, and there was a crackling noise, laced with static, the sound of a vocalizer embedded with shrapnel trying to speak. 

"Medic's here," Charade muttered to his CO, the gentlest voice Prowl had ever heard the mech use, and it was still rough. "Just another klik and they'll get you in stasis."

::Move it!.:: Prowl snarled at the medics across the comm. ::Critical injury in here.::

"Cool your jets," came the calm reply of the emergency-responder marked medic who entered a moment later. "Have to make sure those others didn't have criticals and not realize it due to shock. Yeah, you took a good hit, didn't you," he hummed, kneeling down next to Radiance, hand already transformed and working on cauterizing the open wounds that were leaking the most energon. "Transport's outside, we'll move on three," he got his arms around under Radiance's legs, met Charade's optics and got a nod. "All right, one, two, three!" They rose smoothly, Charade hardly paying attention to the second medic who came in and started scanning him as the entire group moved outside. Prowl moved with them, Radiance never letting go of his wrist.

"Probability of survival?" Prowl asked, forcing himself to settle and respond as a rational officer rather than the terrified mate that he also was.

"At this point it depends on what got hit, how much energon he's lost, and how well his systems adjust to it," the medic said as they made it to the transport and started to load him in. "Fifty one way, fifty the other."

"Understood," Prowl suppressed his shudder and put the amputated arm in with Radiance. "I want to come." He looked rather pointedly at the hand still clinging to his wrist.

The medic glanced from wrist, to Prowl's doorwings, to what remained of the paintings on Radiance's, and nodded, gesturing in with his head. "Not exactly regulation, but I've seen a familiar field do wonders. I can even write you off as kin and give a pass that way if you all have courting forms in."

"Twenty vorns ago," Prowl's harmonics included his gratitude as he settled next to his mate. He was carefully out of their way, but as close to Radiance as he could manage as he extended his field and meshed with the agonized one as best he could. It might have been the most pain Radiance had ever been in, but for Prowl, it was nothing at all and he siphoned off as much as he could.

It got a response -- a barely cognizant one, emergency protocols already having kicked in to stop most of the higher processor functions and anything else nonessential -- as recognition and relief flickered back to him, followed by a sharp, confused engine whine when the medic began cauterizing again while his partner hooked a line into the medical access port in Radiance's neck. Prowl pulsed back soothingly, promising safety with his field, and the engine calmed again.

"All right, he's safe to go into stasis, let me know when you're ready," he told his partner, who nodded silently, focusing on his work for another few kliks before he leaned back.

"Right, drop him down," he said, and the visor immediately went dark, the grip around Prowl's wrist going slack. The medic looked up at Prowl and gave him the most comforting smile possible for the situation he was in. "So here comes the hard part."

* * *

Mortar was more familiar with the end of visiting hours at the hospital than he ever would have wanted to be, but at least this was a case of him greeting kin on the way out, instead of being the one being kicked out. Many Enforcers were unable to keep up functional families or relationships--just a few centuries ago, it would have been him visiting this particular mech when his creators and SIC couldn't. 

Prowl was coming out into the waiting area looking, predictably, like a cyberpuppy that had just been kicked. Mortar caught his lost-looking gaze and waved him over. "Drinks, you and me." 

The golden visor slid up and Prowl nodded, moving towards Mortar before his processor had even fully caught up with the statement. Mortar waited, watching the blank, rote expression before waving a hand in front of Prowl's face. "You with me here?"

"Yes, sir," Prowl nodded, his features not changing but his optics clearly following the movement. His field was tightly held, but his frame still betrayed his physical and emotional exhaustion. "Drinks sound good. I'm not sure I'm ready to go home to an empty berth yet."

Mortar rumbled in agreement. "Tried to check in on Saxo for you and got pretty well shut out. Radiance is my main line underground. Come on, we'll talk and drive," he said as Prowl followed him out and they stepped into the transformation lane. ::You heard anything about the investigation yet, or have you been sitting up there the whole time?::

::I kept up on what went through open channels, which wasn't much,:: Prowl admitted as he followed smoothly. ::I was too focused on trying to provide a comforting field,:: he admitted like it was the failure he felt it was.

::Which is exactly what you should have been doing,:: Mortar said firmly. ::Woulda told you not to listen at all if I'd known you were. Shoulda thought of that,:: he grumbled. 

::I was still on duty until half a joor ago,:: Prowl countered, uncertain whether to be relieved or aghast at the approval.

::Courting rights, mech. You have the equivalent of kin trauma rights for Radiance in non-emergency situations,:: Mortar said. ::As soon as I determined that the incident today was isolated, you were off the hook.:: There was a heavy pause. ::So, it looks like he was set up for this, him and his crew, at least.::

The deep, violent growl from Prowl's engine promised _much_ pain for those responsible. ::Don't be surprised if you don't catch many of them.::

Mortar wisely didn't ask why. ::Set-up was pretty simple, tripwire set off the explosives, placed to get as much of the group as possible but poor Lightshy took the most of it, then Radiance. He usually enters first in a situation like that, that's probably what they were counting on. Frames we collected were all from the same gang, one that's been squeezed pretty tight from search and seizure lately. Running theory is that they've been working on this setup for a while, or possibly they found out about the seizure and then set the whole thing up. Almost without doubt he was the target.::

::I can understand why,:: Prowl's voice was tight, torn between the logic of the reasoning and the personal response to having his mate hurt. ::He's very good at his job.::

::He is,:: Mortar grumbled, pulling off to the side of the road at the first bar they passed. He transformed, wearing a scowl to match his tone as they walked in. "Both of you are very good at your jobs," he said in a disapproving voice.

Prowl froze mid-step, his doorwings going almost flat to his back with a field that rippled between bewilderment and shame-distress.

It took Mortar another step to realize that Prowl wasn't following him before he turned, saw the expression on his subordinate's face, and his own doorwings drooped. "Ah--frag, no, I'm sorry, Pantera, I didn't mean it like that," he said, coming back over and putting one large hand on Prowl's shoulder, trying his best to offer his very uncomfortable apology. "You're both to be commended for your work, it's just..." He shifted awkwardly. "Get hurt when you're good," he mumbled.

It was enough to let Prowl relax and put everything in the correct context. "Get hurt when you aren't good too," he said softly. "Or innocent. I'll take my chances being good."

Mortar grumbled for a moment, still scowling, before huffing. "I would like a stiff cube of jet fuel, come on." 

Prowl followed him inside and through the crowd as the large Praxian worked his way over to a table in the back that his knees could fit under. 

"What's his prognosis like?" Mortar asked once they had placed their orders. "Heard he lost an arm, but you only look like the world is kind of ending instead of completely ending, so that gives me hope."

"The last update I was given listed him as 'critical' and they are 'hopeful', which I take to mean as better than before," Prowl sighed deeply. "Something better than fifty-fifty."

"Hopeful is a good word, those medics don't like to give that one out much," Mortar said. He covered Prowl's hand with his own and squeezed. "Not the first time he's been banged up, he'll pull through."

"He has good reason too," Prowl tried to smile when their drinks arrived. He willingly fell silent as the first cube of potent high grade went down, leaving him decidedly fuzzy and far less stressed. "He wouldn't abandon us."

"He's a good mech like that," Mortar agreed after his own cube went down and he signaled for another. "Couldn't have asked for a better SWAT chief. Even if he did only learn where to file his reports after you started working here." He chuckled deeply. "Never seen anyone change his mind on the value of doing reports so fast in my life." 

Prowl let out a rumbling rev of his engine that was more snicker than anything else. "Any excuse to see a lover is a good one. He even manages to keep his processors on work. Mostly."

Mortar grinned. "Mostly, is it, now?"

"Mostly," Prowl's optics glittered with overcharged amusement. "Though the most entertaining times were when we commed him on duty, not exactly realizing he was on duty at the time. Our first real, proper triad 'face. Still one of the hottest I've ever had. I needed it too, bad."

"Comm 'facing while on duty," Mortar rumbled, shaking his head, but unable to quite hide how tickled he was at the idea of two of his most diligent mecha acting like mechlings. "Good thing the precinct chief didn't find out about that," he added, chuckling, as their second round was set on the table and was promptly lifted for a swallow. "Radiance always did have that reputation for being a good 'face," he mused, trying to sound nonchalant about it. 

"Oh he very much is," Prowl didn't even try to hide the shiver of raw pleasure that made his plating click in an erotic sequence loud enough to briefly catch attention before he downed half the cube in a single drink. "One of his best kept secrets though. Hardly ever went through with it. It's actually what drew us to him." He downed another long gulp. "When I was away to settle the sparklings, he took care of Saxo and _didn't_ accept any advances."

"Good of him," Mortar said, genuinely surprised to hear that, and it showed through his field. He leaned back, sipping and pondering for a moment. "Especially knowing how much Saxo is his type." He hummed, then grinned, and decided to take a little advantage of Prowl's increasingly overcharged state. "Ever do anything more than comm 'face him on duty?" 

Prowl shook his helm. "Never intentionally did more than flirt on duty. Just sometimes one of us would be on duty when the other commed for fun. It can be difficult keeping track of overtime when you're out of town. Didn't always time it right." His voice grew more slurred with every mouthful, but also his accent shifted by degrees to something decidedly unusual for him, something much closer to his noble-language origins.

Mortar cocked his head as he listened, familiar with the tone from his few encounters with it. "You grow up near the noble quarters?" he asked. "Don't usually hear that in the lower districts."

The question was enough to snap Prowl out of his half-delirious and very overcharged stupor with a ripple of tension that clamped his armor down tight and turned optics that were entirely too bright on Mortar.

For a brief moment, Mortar wondered if he'd just stepped into something he wasn't prepared for. Prowl looked like he was contemplating whether to fight or bolt.

Then the cube came up and Prowl finished it off, wavering seriously as he did so. "Carrier thought it important I speak well," he mumbled. "Got me into a few places I shouldn't have gotten into."

"Ahh," Mortar said, nodding. "Yeah, I can see why you'd slough off that accent, doesn't do anyone good to sound like that around here anymore." He rumbled contemplatively. "Know I'm not s'posed to care, but nobles," he shook his head. "Set my armor on edge."

Prowl chuckled darkly and waved for a third round with every intention of passing out from overclocking his systems so severely. His fuzzy processor suggested another cube and a half would do it, while it absently commented that he'd downed enough already to drop a normal mech his size. "Maybe one orn I'll tell you what I've seen up there. It'd do a lot more'n that."

"I've no doubt," Mortar huffed, wavering a little himself as he took another gulp. His optics unfocused suddenly, a clear sign that the charge had just hit him _hard_ , and he spent a few moments staring at the table while they refocused. "You three'd better take care'a each other, you hear?" he rumbled suddenly, pinning Prowl with a hard, if slightly distant, gaze. "Once Rad'nce is out 'n all. No more injuries. I forbid it. I'll fire you on th'spot."

"After this," Prowl raised his fresh cube in a toast to no one and took a drink, "I don't think anybody'll think it's a bright idea to mess with us. Saxo'll get real busy when he finds out. Mech even scares me sometimes, and I love him all the more for it. He'll do _anything_ for us. I'll do anything for them. If he doesn't catch them, I will."

"Good," Mortar said. "Shouldn condone som'thn like that, but good, I say. 'Cause you three are really wonderful, good to see mecha still carin' like that. 'Specially Radiance." He shook himself a little, optics coming back into focus. "Really good to see him not so off like he was for a while, that mech just shines with those paintings. Oh..." He trailed off for a moment, thinking hard. "Guess you'll hafta do 'em again now."

"This time with glyphs of protection and warning," Prowl rumbled drunkenly. "No one hurts him without paying for it." He bared his denta in a vicious grin. "And no one'll wanta pay my price."

"You fright'n me sometimes, Pantera," Mortar chuckled deeply, happily settling into a bit of a dazed stupor.

"Good, I should," Prowl grinned at him, his mood shifting from stressed and vengeful towards drunkenly playful. "Are Branch and Gearshaft picking you up tonight?"

Mortar made a very un-Mortar-like sound that coming from anyone else might be called a giggle. "They are too little to pick me up," he informed Prowl seriously, then made the same sound again and nodded. "Yeah. But not, not like that," he chuckled, seeing the look on Prowl's face before sobering. "Jus' dun like t'be alone nights after losing mecha."

"Same here, same way," Prowl nodded, understanding all too well. "Just want to be held, feel warmth and fields and no demands. Radiance's really good at that. Can't tell you how much it meant to have someone to hold me after a day with the sparklings. No demands, no 'facing to make me feel better. Just holding and warmth and calm field. He's really, really good at that."

"'S good," Mortar said. "Yeah, 'zactly like that. Just a big pile. Mecha pile. Pile o'mechs." He frowned, concentrating hard for a moment as he looked at Prowl. "No one to stay with the night?"

Prowl shook his helm. "Saxo's in deep, won't get a comm for orns yet, maybe a lot longer. 'Less Whiplash tells him. Not happening." He looked at his cube. "Planning on drinking to knock out."

Mortar nodded. "Done a few a those myself. How're you gettin' home, anyone to take you?"

Prowl stared at him for a moment, working to correlate the question with why he was being asked. Eventually his buzzing, scattered processors informed him that he was already well past the ability to drive, likely past the ability to walk, and if he shut down he couldn't call for a transport. With an annoyed grunt he shook his helm. "Didn't think it out that far. Wasn't planning to drink when I left."

Mortar rumbled and nodded. "Why don' you come back with us? They won't mind, not a long walk an' you can crash there, more'n enough to put you under in their place." He chuckled. "They keep it stocked for my size." 

Shakily Prowl nodded. "If no one minds," his field flickered with how important that was to him, followed and mingled with a deep warmth that it was even offered. "It'd be nice. Really nice." He tossed back the last of his third cube. "Maybe another half cube I'll be down."

Mortar clumsily patted his back. "If you don' mind th'indignity, go 'head 'n pass out an' I'll carry you. I'm still plenty good for walking." He paused. "Long as they keep on either side of me and keep me in a straight line."

Prowl chuckled. "Rather walk. Gonna boot up confused enough already."

"Then you'd better stop until we get there," Mortar said with a deep laugh. "Should be good to walk by the time they get here. 'Nother little bit. Di' I tell you no more injuries allowed for you three?"

"Yes," Prowl nodded and struggled to his pedes, wobbling significantly and needing the table to stay upright.

Mortar slipped a credit stick onto the table before they made their very clumsy way outside to slump against the side of the building and wait for the pair of minibots to arrive. 

Branch and Gearshaft got there not long afterwards, grinning as they walked up. "Hey, big guy," Gearshaft greeted, patting Mortar's shoulder. "Guessing this is your friend?" 

Mortar nodded and pointed. "Pantera." 

"You told us," Branch chuckled, and gestured with his head for them to follow. "Happy to have you, Pantera. We've got a cube and a berth with your designation on it."

"Thank you," Prowl managed to slur, most of his focus needed to get one pede in front of the other and correctly on the ground. His field flickered thanks when a supporting shoulder appeared under his hand.

"Yup," one of the minibots--he wasn't quite sure which one--answered. "Don't worry, it's not far from here, and we've gotten bigger and more overcharged afts than yours home before!"

* * *

Jazz was laying on his front in their hotel room in Vos, head resting on one arm with the other stretched out, fingers flexing into the berth as he purred with calm contentment, otherwise completely still. Radiance was straddling his lower back, partially resting over him as he painted small designs onto the backs of Jazz's doorwings, the fronts having been completely filled long ago. 

They'd come back from witnessing the Rite of the Storm Flight energized and impassioned, leading to a dizzying, blissful haze of interfacing, and had finally calmed down enough to settle on the berth, painting as they cooled. 

"That was amazing," Jazz murmured, drifting pleasantly from the light touch of the brush and the warmth of Radiance's frame. "I've never seen anything look so savage and beautiful at the same time." 

"I have," Radiance smiled down at his lover, his mate, half of his triad. "You, fully impassioned at work is very much like that."

Jazz hummed, quirking his own smile, and there was no hiding the warmth that brought to his field. "Never would have thought of it that way. Like to imagine the look on 'Lash's face if you described that."

"I'd be happy to arrange that," Radiance purred deeply and leaned in for a partial kiss. "I don't get to tease him nearly often enough."

Jazz chuckled, turning his head to accept more fully, nipping at Radiance's lower lip as he pulled away. "You drive him nuts sometimes, you know, even if he doesn't let on. He can't figure out how someone as 'soft' as you are got so good at SWAT. Calls it SpecOps for sparklings."

Radiance laughed as he put the paint and brush away. "It's more SpecOps lite. It's where Enforcers go when they need regular action, but don't want the action much more rough that it is in the ranks."

Jazz purred deeply. "The needing regular action part sounds right," he rumbled as Radiance started rubbing up and down along his back strut, magnets clicking in.

"You're the one who needs that," Radiance teased back as he continued to work along Jazz's back. "It takes both of us old mechs to keep you satisfied. How he did it alone is beyond me."

Jazz grinned. "Old, please. You're practically ancient." He got a sharp, playfully reprimanding tweak on one of his joints that made him jump and yelp. "Fine, well-aged." He settled back down, optics dimming contentedly. "He had centuries of fantasies to play out, and besides, how d'you even resist this aft?"

"I did once," Radiance reminded him. "A lot of practice, but mostly wanting more than a quick tumble with you, even then," he leaned forward to kiss Jazz's neck. "If I hadn't resisted, I wouldn't have had a chance at you."

"So glad you did," Jazz sighed, utterly relaxed, field thrumming with the gentle bliss of the moment. "Nap with me and then I'll work on your wings, got some ideas today that I think will look beautiful."

"My pleasure," Radiance smiled, turned his magnets off and settled against Jazz's side with a contented sound.

* * *

"Right," Radiance said, standing and dusting his hands off, looking around at the organized chaos that surrounded them. "Nothing left here but cleanup, which means you lot are free to go once you finish tagging. Pickup's backed up for joors, I'll wait here for 'em." 

His crew looked at him, then around at each other, and quickly reached a silent understanding. 

"We'll wait with you," Charade said, while the others grinned and nodded. "And unless I'm mistaken, we've got more than a few flasks among us." He grinned somewhat savagely. "What good SWAT doesn't wait with his chief?" 

Radiance huffed, pretending to be displeased with them but not doing a very good job of it. "Well, I'm not going to stop you from wasting your free time around here if you really want," he said, then grinned and kicked a gangster who was being held in a forced stasis off of one of the lounges. "Looks like he doesn't need this spot anymore." 

The rest of his crew--Charade, Honor's Gate, Rebound, Fastshot, and Rollover--chuckled and joined him, each of them settling down to lounge in a formerly occupied spot, and before long, the cubes were being passed around. 

"So tell the truth," Rebound said, grinning at their CO. "Were you really gonna wait here all alone or were you gonna have some company?"

" _If_ company was coming, it wouldn't be for two and a half joors when Panterna gets off duty," Radiance shook his helm at their expected question.

"' _If_ ', please," Fastshot cackled. "We all know he'd'a been here."

"And how many kliks?" Honor's Gate asked. "And don't bother lying and saying you don't keep track of that, I can tell when you are."

Radiance scowled at his team's negotiator. "Twenty-three and a half."

Fastshot grinned. "You have got it so bad, boss," he said, shaking his head. He gestured at the painted doorwings. "And those are coming along again."

"Lightshy would have approved," Honor's Gate said with a melancholic smile. 

Radiance mirrored the look and lifted his cube. "To Lightshy," he said, and his team echoed him, each of them taking deep swallow at the end. Radiance exhaled heavily and leaned his head back. 

"What're you doin' with your next off cycle?" Rollover asked after a silent klik. "We're all gonna hang around here and hope for work, but bet you have plans." 

"I'm taking Pantera to the archives in Iacon," Radiance smiled softly. "It's his turn for some time alone with me. He's wanted to go back for a long time but never did. I'm going to make sure that this time he can explore to his spark's content. Within visiting joors at least."

Everyone but Charade immediately started ribbing at him, all with incredibly fond subharmonics, but there were exasperated groans mixed in with their laughter.

" _Archives_ , boss?" Fastshot practically giggled. "You even know what archives are for?" 

"You're not _telling_ us you're spending an entire off cycle walking around dusty old records!" 

"Come on, at least promise you'll go out and get yourself thoroughly 'charged at a club!" 

Honor's Gate just held a hand up over his mouth after the others had finished, trying unsuccessfully to hide his own grin at the idea of Radiance wandering around the Iacon archives, and Charade's expression didn't change at all. 

"I intend to get him overcharged too, and drag him to the _interesting_ places after the archives kick him out for the orn," Radiance grinned at them. "Remember that taking an Intended on vacation is for _them_ , not you. It's what will thrill him. It doesn't matter if I'm bored into stasis. I'm doing this to show how much I care about his interests and that I pay attention even when it isn't an interesting subject."

"So, _so_ bad," Fastshot whispered loudly to the others, pointing his thumb at Radiance. 

"Load a few processor games," Rollover recommended, and the others all backed up their agreement with that statement. 

"Remember where you took Nimbus?" Charade asked suddenly, cutting everyone else off into a startled, and very tense, silence.

"Yes," Radiance leveled his gaze on his SIC, silently asking what the point of the question was.

Charade looked back steadily. "Turned out well, right?" 

"'Rade..." 

"I'm just saying, I've seen you like this before," Charade said, sitting up straight. "More than once. And I believe that you believe it when you say these two are different, and the ones, but I've heard that before, too. You _get_ like this, Radiance, every couple of centuries, what's going to keep this from repeating like everything else?"

Radiance sighed, understanding exactly why this was happening. The mech was like a brother to him, had been an occasional lover for centuries, and was very protective of the mech he'd had to piece back together every time a romance went wrong. "I appreciate the concern, but 'Rade... if I don't risk it I'm never have anything but my work. I love my work, but I want something to go home to. I have to _try_."

Charade just shook his head and looked away, doorwings high and agitated, downing the rest of his cube in a single swallow. It left the room in an uncomfortable silence, no one wanting to speak out in favor of either of their superiors, before Honor's Gate sat up a little straighter. 

"Well, no matter what happens, we'll still be here, grinding our pedes down," he said, smiling. "Your work certainly isn't going anywhere, _that_ is for sure." 

"What if all the criminals had a sudden mass change of spark?" Rebound mused, and Fastshot snickered in response. 

"We'd be poor, is what," he said, and the mood shifted lighter again.

"We'd all be reduced to traffic patrol and municipal court," Radiance chuckled. "Fortunately there's no risk of that."

* * *

Radiance waited until the rest of his crew had cleared out, promising to keep them updated with his Iacon trip and in turn making them promise to keep him informed of any and everything going on in Praxus while he was away, before going back inside to find Charade in the same position, unmoving, having stayed in a silent mood that was not terribly uncharacteristic for him on the surface. 

Radiance could tell the difference between them, though, and this was definitely one of his darker moods.

"What's going on?" he put a firm hand on his SIC's shoulder.

Charade scowled, glared at nothing in particular, and muttered something too low to hear before shaking the hand and standing, getting right in Radiance's face, the two of them almost perfectly matched for height, red and gold visors reflecting off each other. "I thought after Nimbus you'd learned your lesson finally, but here you are doing the same stupid slag all over again!" he snarled, shoving his CO.

Radiance allowed the push, stepping back a bit before settling on his pedes. "I'm not." He hesitated, then decided that if he couldn't trust his SIC with this, he was in trouble. "It's not like any of the others, 'Rade. It's not proper, but all three of us felt the triad coding kick in _hard_ over a hundred vorns ago, and it only gets stronger. We'd have bonded and filed a long time ago if it was at all acceptable. This is _real_ , as real as it gets, and they feel the same way. We've shared hardline and sparks, they've let me in fully. The triad code is already as strong for us as it is for my creators after all their time together."

There was something very akin to shock on Charade's face as he processed that for a long moment, before cocking his head with a frown. "That means there was triad coding before the courting was even public," he said. "Rad, that's..." He shifted a little uncomfortably at the incredible impropriety of that fact. "It just, started, just like that? No one triggered it on purpose?"

"It's pretty arguable that this started when Pantera had to take the sparklings to Polyhex. We _knew_ by the time they disappeared," Radiance said softly. "No, no one triggered it on purpose. We fought it for a long time, trying to give everyone the time they were supposed to have. But it's there, and it's _strong_. We were settled long before the first courting gift. It's only tradition that's kept us from saying so."

"Well that explains why you got so hot on them so fast," Charade said, then shrugged and flopped back down onto the lounge, sprawling out. "Seriously, it was bad even for you." He blew out a gust of air. "You realize this just means it's going to be impossible to put you back together after this one blows up," he muttered, with a tone and teek that Radiance knew well. Embarrassment, and there was an apology in there alongside it.

"I know," Radiance's tone held an apology for all the times it had blown up and Charade had been the one to piece the mangled mess into something that resembled Radiance enough to work. He put a hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "And I'll thank you now for being there for me, through all of it."

Charade snorted, even as he tilted his head to rub against Radiance's hand. "Please, I'm like a bad case of space rust, just try getting rid of me." He patted the lounge, silently asking Radiance to sit in front of him, and then wrapped arms around him and pulled him back once he had, chin against his CO's shoulder. "Guess I should be nice to them next time we're in the same room."

"It would mean a lot to me if you would try," Radiance smiled and tipped his helm back to rest on his best friend's shoulder. "They're good mecha, and they're good for me."

Charade rumbled. "They'd better be _perfect_ for you or I don't approve."

"They are. Just watch and see," Radiance chuckled, content to relax in his friend's arms.

* * *

Jazz flew over the terrain at top speed, reveling in the utter freedom of going _anywhere_. There were no roads here, just vast stretches of open land to drive on and no one within a thousand hics, minimum.

They were on Mesa-3, an off-world destination that specifically catered to Cybertronians and other biomechanoids with a vast oasis resort in the middle of all that nothing, with aerial pick-ups on demand for anyone who might not feel like making it back on their own power. This was their vacation gift to Radiance, an entire world to drive as fast as he wanted, in whatever direction he wanted, not bound to a track. 

Not that it wasn't thrilling for both Jazz and Prowl, as well. 

The two Praxian Enforcers were both in front of him, each of them equipped with more powerful pursuit engines than his, but he had the advantage of having been trained to take greater risks with the chance of greater rewards, as well as greater failure. 

One of those risks was coming up, a sloped, hard rock face off to the north that if he timed it just right--

A hard gunning of his engines, burning through fuel to get the momentum up, and Jazz _flew_ up and over, coming out right in front of the Enforcer pair, taking their momentary, automatic braking to zoom ahead.

::Saxo, you are _crazy!_ :: Radiance laughed over their open comm line even as his and Prowl's engines roared to catch up on the gentle slope.

::I think we need to burn off some of his extra energy,:: Prowl added with a deep rumbling purr.

::Pff, you have to catch me for that!:: Jazz taunted and cut hard to the right.

::As if you've ever been a match for me,:: Prowl chuckled deeply and set his full processor strength to the task of catching his mate as they all raced across the low hills, powerful pursuit engines against a lighter frame taking more daring risks. If it was anyone but Prowl, Jazz may well have gotten away, but against Prowl's processors guiding both him and Radiance in full pursuit mode, he had no chance. In almost no time he found himself being tackled under two strong Praxian frames as they tumbled into a shallow gorge.

Jazz rolled as they landed, and a second later there were strong hands on his shoulders, pushing him down, rumbling, revving engines covering him completely. 

"You should know what happens to mecha who run from Enforcers," Radiance growled near his audial. 

"Tell me they get punished," Jazz purred back. 

"Severely," Prowl growled as he pawed at Jazz's valve cover. "Pleasure us both well enough, and just maybe we'll keep you as a pet instead of turning you in."

Jazz pushed his hips up and back into the touch. "That's abuse of authority," he moaned as soon as fingers hit his valve, pushing in roughly. "You can't--"

Hands grabbed his helm and jerked his head up. "Hey, _shareware,_ " Radiance rumbled, spike nudging against Jazz's lower lip as Prowl's fingers pulled out. "Who said you could talk, huh? Come on, sure you've sucked a thousand of these, open up."

"Do a good job and maybe we'll go easy on you," Prowl growled deeply, lust saturating every syllable as he drove his spike into Jazz in a single thrust. "Oh, he's a tight one. You'll want a turn at this, Rad."

"Nn--" Radiance moaned, fingers clenching around the helm as Jazz opened his mouth and he shoved in, intentionally rough, hitting the intake and pushing further until he felt lips against his housing. "You'll wanna feel this, too, little slut knows how to swallow!" He held Jazz's helm in place and rocked his hips, shuddering with a mix of lust from the chase, the rippling in his mate's intake, and the _thrill-bliss_ that was rolling off of Jazz. "Oh let's take him home, please, 'Tera, tie him up and pound his aft until he learns to beg for it!"

"Aft, mouth, use his hands, his ports and spark," Prowl keened as he thrust, deep, hard and fast. "Tie him up until he doesn't want to leave."

"Make him our whore," Radiance gasped, pushing and pulling Jazz between them. "Ours, _ours!_ "

"You want that, shareware? Do you want to be owned by _only_ us? For _our_ pleasure and no other?" Prowl gasped and growled out, the charge already rising to crackle under his plating.

Jazz answered by squeezing his valve and increasing the cycle speed, bowing his back to force his aft up, legs shifting apart while he swallowed and sucked, moaning. 

"Think that means yes," Radiance groaned, head tossing back. "Eager little thing, feel how much he loves it?"

"Yes, yes I do," Prowl groaned, shuddering as he pounded into the eager frame under him. "Never felt anything like him. Want to keep him, never let anyone else touch him."

"No one but us," Radiance purred. "Ah _frag_ yes, yes! Shareware got me all worked up from the chase, so close, want to hear you screaming with me, my love!"

Prowl groaned and sped up, shuddering, his plating crackling. "Three. Two. One...." he counted down to a roar that carried for hics as he pumped hot, charged transfluid deep into Jazz's valve, splashing and rushing against sensors set beyond the reach of a spike.

Jazz seized between them, his own cry drowned out by his lovers' screams as they filled him from either side, releasing the energy of the chase to rush through their frames and crackle into blissful release into the air. 

Without pausing, Radiance pulled out and they had Jazz turned around between them, roaring as they pushed in, going until they couldn't move anymore, until they were all in a tangled pile on the ground, spent and panting. 

"Best traffic stop I ever made," Radiance mumbled drowsily.

"Definitely," Prowl agreed from where he was sprawled half on top of Jazz. "Going to keep this one forever."

Jazz purred contentedly from his place among the warm frames. "You'd better," he said, and nuzzled Radiance. "So did we pick the best place or what?" 

Radiance laughed. "Racing for joors on end in whatever direction we happen to want to go in? Absolutely yes." He lifted his head for a moment to glance at the planet's red sun, most of the way beyond the horizon. "I think pick-up, I do not want to drive all the way back. Mm," he laid his head back down. "Even if I _did_ know which way was up."

Prowl chuckled and obediently commed the resort with their coordinates and request, content to remain still until they heard the jet coming.

* * *

"He is going to be so embarrassed by you two," Contact said, chuckling from behind his hand as Mira thanked the officer who pointed them towards Radiance's office. 

"Two!" Mira said, catching up with them, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "I think I count three of us here!" 

"I would like to state for the record that I am here under duress," Contact said. "I'm sure he'd be over to tell us. Eventually."

"Eventually is not good enough," Brava huffed. "We're supposed to be _told_ these things."

"You are secretly glad you have us to go frisk him down for information, because you'd never do it yourself," Mira giggled. "Admit it." 

Contact hummed. "I suppose it would be nice to know, since I'm sure they've already decided amongst themselves. The more time to plan the better." 

"Exactly!" Mira said brightly. "We'll need to know what to cook, that takes metacycles!" 

"Mm, true," Contact agreed, as all three came up to the door that led into SWAT's surveillance and resource center that also doubled as Radiance's office, since he used his official one as nothing more than a place to recharge. "So do we knock?" 

"Since when do creators need to knock," Brava smirked and tapped in the security code, neither of her mates daring to ask where she'd gotten it from. "Creation!" her voiced carried into the room before she stalked in, doorwings held high, and took in the bright-opticked look of a mech that was only staring at them.

"Uh, oh," Charade said. "Hi. He's, uh..." He pointed towards the back, and then held a hand up over his mouth to hide his snicker, ineffectively. 

Radiance was sitting with Honor's Gate, datapads spread out in front of them, a few others of his crew scattered about for what was apparently a filing and research orn, all of them staring at the three mecha who had just walked in. 

"Creators," Radiance stood to greet them after a moment of surprise. "What brings you here?" he moved to guide them out of the room they weren't supposed to have access to.

Mira ducked past him, looking around. "Kind of drab in here, sweetspark," she said, and sat down next to Honor's Gate. "You haven't been around lately so we had to come down here and find you. He hasn't told any of you when the bonding ceremony is yet, has he? We're sure they've set one."

Contact gave his creation an apologetic smile. "It's true we haven't seen you in a while." 

Radiance sighed and rubbed the center of his chevron. "You both also know that yesterday was the first orn I could say anything about it and I haven't been off duty yet."

"Aw, come on, sweetspark," Fastshot said, grinning at his CO. "Tellin' us you don't have time to comm your folks? For shame." 

"He didn't comm you at _all?_ " Honor's Gate asked Mira, faking shock. 

"Not once," Mira said, pouting back at him. "And we're prepared to take drastic measures to get him to tell." 

"Come on, it's not like it's even this _vorn_!" Radiance said with exasperation, arms across his chest and scowling, not that anyone was intimidated or even fooled. "You know there is at least a three vorn waiting period. There was time to get off duty, clean up and come over. All three of us."

Brava huffed. "This is only the most important orn of your entire existence, short of when you bring a creation home. You _make_ time for it."

Charade got up and stood next to Brava. "Seriously Rad, a little pre-planning would do you some good. Now we all wanna hear, you three pick a date yet?"

The black mech huffed, sounding remarkably like his dark-colored creator as he did. "As if everything hasn't been planned down to the klik with Pantera around. Yes, we set a date, and location, and if you want _any_ say it in, take it up with him, please. Or Saxo. He can sometimes get a glyph in edgewise." He sank down in a chair. "A mech shouldn't look that happy to sit still and think."

"I think it's admirable," Contact said, smiling indulgently as Mira bounded up and pulled Radiance back up to his pedes and into a hug. 

"At least tell us when and where!" she pleaded, quivering with excitement. "Oh, darling, you'll look so stunning!"

"The precinct temple, his concession to me, Orn one of Metacycle one," Radiance indulged her.

Mira trilled her joy and gratitude and his entire team cheered, Contact stepping forward to brush their helms together fondly. 

"We're so happy for you, dearest," he murmured, smiling. "That was all they wanted, would you like me to corral them out before they think of more ways to embarrass you?" 

"No please stay!" Fastshot piped up, perking. "Sweetspark here won't mind a bit, promise."

"You are neither my creator nor my mate, you are not authorized to call me that," Radiance growled at his officer. "And we have work to do." He turned his helm to nuzzle his creator. "Yes, please go torment Pantera. He's about to get off duty."

"All right," Contact chuckled, and waved, then slipped his hand around Mira's arm and tugged, Brava turning to follow. She nodded to Charade, who nodded back, then paused and leaned in. 

"You keeping him out of trouble?" 

"Always, ma'am," Charade said, expression as serious as hers. 

She nodded once. "Good. He needs someone sensible about." 

"Good seeing you, Charade!" Mira said. "Bye darling!" she called to Radiance, who gave her a pained smile in return, and then turned a glare on his team the moment the door was shut. They all looked back innocently. 

"The next one who calls me sweetspark gets stakeout duty for the next vorn," he informed them. 

"How about darling?" Honor's Gate asked. 

"Or dearest?" Rollover asked, trying not to snicker. 

"Any term any of them used," Radiance growled. "It is not for you."

"Spoilsport," Fastshot muttered fondly, as they all settled back into their work.

* * *

Contact lay nestled between his mates, three frames all purring and contented together, three parts of one spark, all of them happy to just _be_.

"Can't believe our creation is actually bonding," Contact murmured, face against Brava's neck, Mira's arm around his waist, the two of them holding each other's hands. 

"I was starting to think it would never happen," Brava said with a snort. "Mech's practically allergic to commitment." 

"Oh, he is not!" Mira said, smacking her mate's aft and getting a mock warning growl in response. "He commits to _everything!_ "

"Allergic to committed partners," Brava amended. 

"I think we made him too beautiful," Contact hummed. "Mecha just saw that, ignored who he _is_." 

"Not Saxo and Pantera," Mira said cheerfully, cuddling up against Contact's back. 

Brava's lips turned up in a rare smile. "Not Saxo and Pantera," she agreed. 

"Part of me is still just ... _waiting_ , all the same," Contact sighed. "It was so hard last time, I don't know what another rejection would do to him." 

"They _wouldn't_ do that," Mira said. 

"Can you be sure?" Contact asked, and both femmes were suddenly watching him with intense focus. 

"We'd know," Brava said. "If they were like that. We knew Nimbus was no good." 

"...Not like that, though," Contact said. "Not that bad. We thought that was going to be his first mate." 

Silence, and agreement. 

Brava nuzzled him, holding him suddenly tight. "I know how hard that was for you," she rumbled softly. 

"Harder for him," Contact said. 

"Still hard for you," Mira agreed. "I'm sorry we weren't there to help." 

Contact just curled into their embrace, taking comfort in it against old, buried memories. One of the great anticipations in any Praxian creator's life was the ceremonial washing of courting paint, and to listen to his creation sobbing in sparkbreak in a washrack _hadn't_ been how he'd imagined it. 

* * *

Contact didn't even chastise him when he rang at the door, simply unlocked it to let Radiance in, waiting just inside for his creation. 

Radiance all but collapsed into his creator's embrace, making a quiet sound, burying his face against Contact's neck like he had as a sparkling, desperately seeking the comfort that had once come from this. 

"Shh, there," Contact murmured, holding him tightly. "Come on, let's go sit down."

Radiance nodded and let go after a moment, following Contact through the home, sitting down once they'd reached the interior lounge room and finding high grade pressed into his hands a moment later. 

Contact sat next to him and Radiance leaned, taking a deep swallow. 

"Want to talk about it?" Contact asked softly, and Radiance just shook his head. Contact nodded and they sat in familiar silence for a while until Radiance had finished the cube. 

"It's just," Radiance said suddenly, then made the same quiet sound, and within nanokliks his creator's arms were around him, bringing him into his chest while he started sobbing. 

Contact held him tightly and stroked his helm, waiting as long as he had to for Radiance to quiet, then kissed the top of his head.

Radiance sighed a moment later, the tension gone from his frame. "What did you hear?" 

Contact hummed softly. "I heard that Nimbus was seen without his paintings." 

Radiance's own paint-covered wings dipped sharply. 

Contact nuzzled him. "And...a lot more about another he was with."

Radiance just nodded. 

Contact waited a little while, rubbing his back. "I have some solvent," he finally said. "Do you feel up to washing?" 

A sharp distress flicker went through Radiance's field, but it was quickly overwhelmed by heavy resignation. "Yeah," he sighed, and let Contact guide him upstairs into the small washrack. He wrapped his arms around himself and stood under the rinse, listening to his creator rummaging for a few moments before he reappeared holding a bottle and a cloth. 

"I'm so sorry," Contact murmured, and Radiance tried not to flinch away when he began gently rubbing the solvent into his doorwings, dissolving away the protective sealant and exposing the painted marks to the spray. 

The paint started running as soon as the cleaner solution hit it, dripping down his doorwings, streaking them with color. Radiance stared at the white paint being washed down the drain, took a shuddering intake, then brought his hands over his face and sank down onto his knees, doubled over and crying out. 

Contact was there immediately, arms around his creation, holding him tight, rocking, petting, soothing under the rise. They were there until long after the paint was completely washed away and the cleaner ran clear, Contact waiting until Radiance finally roused and reached up to turn off the washrack. 

"Do you want to stay here the night?" Contact asked almost hopefully, neither one of them moving. "You know you're always welcome, sweetspark."

Radiance sighed, leaning against him. "Can't. I called in and volunteered to pick up the extra night patrol shifts." 

Contact pulled away to stare at him. "You massively overworked yourself last decaorn, you need to _rest!_ " 

Radiance scowled. "I overworked myself so I could get time off for--" He broke off and shook his head. "S'posed to be a surprise, guess _that_ worked out well." 

"Why don't you go anyway?" Contact suggested. "Take some time just for yourself?" 

"I wouldn't enjoy it," Radiance said, shaking his head, leaning back against him. "I just want to work." 

Contact could only nod. 

* * *

Radiance booted to find himself alone in their berth, an unusual occurrence, and sat up, looking around. The berth room was empty, the washrack wasn't running, and he couldn't see anyone out on the balcony. 

He stretched, arms over his head and wings fluttering out before getting up and making his way over to the grand staircase. He spotted his mates right away, stretched out on a lounge and rocking together. He could hear their soft moans and smiled, making his way to the bottom of the steps. He leaned against the banister, arms crossed over his chest, purring at the sight. 

The motion caught Jazz's attention and he tilted his head back, grinning when he saw their mate. "Hey, you're up," he said, panting, then groaned deeply as Prowl thrust forward. "Mmm, join us?"

Radiance cocked his head, considering it, but then he smiled, hummed, and shook his head. "It would ruin my perfect view," he said, and walked over to stretch out on the opposite facing lounge, visor bright as he watched, completely satisfied to enjoy his mates' pleasure. There was something vibrant and intoxicating about watching them make love that he would never tire of, something that was joyful and soothing all the way into his spark. Jazz's pleasure-bright optics, the way Prowl's face smoothed and his doorwings relaxed, the scent and teek of their arousal, the way they moved as one being. "You two have no idea how beautiful you are when you're together." 

Jazz managed to grin at him, Prowl smiled as he leaned in to mouth at Jazz's neck, and Radiance relaxed in to enjoy the morning pleasure. 


	36. Courting in Praxus: Bonding a Triad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: This chapter ended up with more smut than intended. XD Enjoy your fluff while it lasts, guys.  
> Credit to [Glyphs and Marks](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6835850/1/Glyphs-and-Marks) by quidamling for the basic of Cybertronian tattooing.

True to form and standard, exactly four metacycles before the ceremony everyone invited received a formal invitation, which was traditional right down to which Intended the invitation was from and what they were invited as. The only unusual thing, really, was that each of Radiance's creators had received an invitation to attend as the creator of a different mech. It was something Prowl had cautiously asked if they would be willing to do, as neither he nor Jazz had any kin to invite. Both of their bosses could stand in if needed, but Prowl wanted to offer it to the mecha who had become their surrogate creators first.

True to form as well, on the orn of the bonding Whiplash was the first to arrive and he cased the location with all the grace and trust of a large, wild cybercat turned loose into a new enclosure. He nodded with a pleased look when Charade and Rebound arrived not much later with an explosives sniffing turbo-hound from the department and gave the entire place another once-over. They'd almost lost their boss once to a trap. They weren't going to have it happen on his bonding orn.

The remaining guests, a mixture of Enforcers from Prowl and Radiance's units, arrived fairly close together and on time. By the time the Justice of the Peace walked down the center aisle to the slightly raised podium where he would oversee the ceremony, those observing were seated and ready, while Prowl, Jazz, Radiance, and Radiance's creators waited to the side.

The Justice of the Peace smiled at the gathering, then cleared his vocalizer out. "As per the request of the Intendeds, there will be no prayers offered this orn, nor am I here to lead a ceremony, only to observe and witness the legality of this union. And," he chuckled, "I must say, it is some of the best legal filing I have seen in my lifetime." He turned to the waiting mecha and gestured for them to move into the center ring, lowered slightly into the ground, with six small pools forming a triangle, alternating between a clear liquid and a light blue. "We may begin." 

Prowl, Jazz, and Radiance stepped forward first, and there was no hiding the excitement in Radiance's frame from the tilt and quiver of his doorwings, every micron of them covered with the courtship paintings. His Intendeds were much the same, though calmer than he was. They knelt together in the center of the circle, facing each other in a triangle, and grasped each other's hands as the other three walked up behind them. 

Contact stood behind Radiance, Brava behind Prowl, and Mira behind Jazz, each one of them just as excited, if not more, than their creation. White cloth was pulled from subspace, and dipped into the blue pools. 

"Will you allow us to clean your wings and erase the marks of a courtship well-executed, in favor of bonding and beginning your lives together?" Brava asked. 

All three lifted their doorwings in clear affirmative. The creators exchanged a smile all around, and then held cloth to metal and rubbed in careful, broad strokes, dissolving away the clear sealant that had kept the paintings so carefully protected during the long courtship. The intricate designs smeared under the chemicals and the work continued silently but for the contented engine purring until both backs and fronts had been completely gone over, and the cloths were switched for clean ones, which went into the clear pools.

These pressed against the metal and liquid dripped down, cutting a path through the paint, revealing the colors underneath for the first time in over a century in some places. Fields flared warmly at the work being done, the old triad helping the new in a cherished part of their society.

Each one was rubbed down with dry cloth and then repolished before the creators stepped back, looking proudly at their creation and his Intendeds for a moment before Contact pulled a silk loop out of his subspace. All three stood and faced each other once again and the loop was draped around them before the creators took their place in the audience.

The vow they recited in unison had been carefully chosen, ancient and full of a deep spiritual connection to the very existence of a spark, one that celebrated the touch and taste of a lover's spark, rather than any higher power. As they finished, the Justice of the Peace stepped forward, holding a single datapad.

"I have here the final officiating document, requiring only the verified signature from each, that will signify the full, binding, legal union of this triad. Pantera," he called the first designation.

Prowl broke from his mates and stepped forward, pressing his hand to the datapad, adding his signature before returning to them. Radiance was called next, then Jazz, and once they were all reunited in the center, with family and friends as witness, the Justice of the Peace pressed his own signature to the document, smiled, and stepped back. "It is done," he said, simply, warmly. "You are triad."

The audience, which had been admirably restrained throughout the entire process, especially those in Radiance's unit, jumped up and trilled their approval, excitement, and congratulations for the new triad, who could only stand there and beam at each other until each was tackled in a hug.

"Gonna come out drinking with the rest of us?" Mortar rumbled with a knowing glimmer in his optics once the new triad had been passed around to everyone in the room. "It'll be fun..." 

"I have no doubt," Radiance grinned, looking at his mates. "But we are going to make use of the bonding chambers, and, no offense intended to your drinking, but I'd really love to see how you think partying with this lot could top that." 

Mortar's rumbling laugh carried over everyone, not at all surprised at that answer. "We'll stay here and keep you company for a while," he assured his SWAT chief, who scowled at him.

Jazz draped himself over Radiance from behind and nuzzled. "Just think of it as a denial game," he purred. 

"This is one time I do not want to play denial games," Radiance purred back, turning his head for a kiss. When he broke away, he glanced around the room, and then held his hand up to stifle a laugh. "Oh no." 

"Mm?" Jazz hummed, then followed his mate's gaze, and saw Mira smiling brightly at Whiplash and introducing herself. "Oh," he grinned, un-draped himself, and headed over, Radiance trailing behind. Contact and Brava beat them there, drawn by their mate's curiosity in the only mech present that none of them had met. 

"I thought I knew everyone here but apparently I missed one," Mira said, purring as she looked over the unusual matte finish. "Do you work with Saxo?"

"With him, not anymore," Whiplash gave his agent a faint smirk. "I'm his boss now. I used to be his trainer."

"Saxo, you didn't tell me he was so handsome," Mira said, looking up and down the frame that was more similar to hers than any of the mechs in the room, to the patient smiles of her mates.

Jazz quirked a grin, cocking his head at his mentor. "I guess he does clean up nicely," he said. 

Brava frowned suddenly. "Your ID ping comes back as civilian," she said. "You do undercover work?"

Whiplash's chuckle set more than a few nerves on edge. "I do, when I'm called on, though that ping is simply habit. It wouldn't do for just anyone to know what I am, much less what I do for a living."

"It's Lash, right?" Mira asked curiously. "Saxo mentions you sometimes. All good things," she promised brightly. 

"What _do_ you do for a living?" Brava asked, hands on Mira's waist and chin on her mate's shoulder, doorwings lifted. 

"These orns most of my work is administrative," Whiplash said, and earned a grunt of sympathy from Mortar. "Saxo's training was an unusual thing. I rarely train anymore, and hardly ever train interrogators. But as for what you're actually _asking_ , I'm The Prime's Assassin."

 _That_ got sharp looks from all three creators, with tensing, startled frames and fields, though none fearful. 

"That sounds like...interesting work," Contact said, and then looked at Radiance. "'Lash'...is that the same as the Whiplash he talks about sometimes?"

"Yes," Whiplash nodded. "Radiance is one of my local recruiters."

"Side gig," Radiance said, shrugging one shoulder for everyone who gave him curious looks. "SWAT runs across plenty of colorful characters, I send the good ones along to him." 

Jazz hummed and nuzzled his mate as Prowl walked up, slipping his arms around their waists. "How we met, kind of. I think he liked watching me dance, though." 

"It was a perk," Radiance grinned. 

"You say one of _your_ recruiters like you're the one in charge," Mira said once the chuckles had quieted, looking back at Whiplash. 

"I am," Whiplash nodded.

"Praxus division?" Brava prodded.

Whiplash regarded her. "All of it."

There was a beat of silence while everyone except the new triad just _stared_ at Whiplash, needing to take that moment to fully comprehend exactly what he'd just said. 

"In charge of...all the recruitment for Special Operations?" Contact asked. 

"I think he means _all_ of it, dearest," Brava rumbled, and the look she was giving Whiplash was one of deep respect. 

Mira cocked her head at him. "What's your title?"

"Head of Imperial Special Operations," Whiplash answered honestly. "And that is more than enough about me. I haven't been this honest outside my realm since I recruited Radiance. This orn is about the happy triad," he nodded towards the three Praxians who'd just bonded.

"But we already know all about them!" Mira said, giggling, but obediently shifted her attention. 

"Ever so modest," Jazz teased his mentor, leaning back against Prowl. 

"One of his best virtues," Radiance hummed, doing the same, smiling at his creators. "How long do we have to stay to avoid being impolite?" 

"It's your bonding, I think you get to decide that," Contact chuckled. 

"Nonsense," Brava said. "They are here to be the center of attention and feel like specimens in a zoo until we say so. Radiance," she said sharply. 

Radiance straightened quickly, an automatic reflex. "...Brava?" 

Brava eyed him for a moment, then her features softened as much as anyone outside her triad had ever seen. "Congratulations." Her gaze shifted between them. "To all of you." 

Radiance hummed, smiled, and relaxed again, before spotting Charade lingering over near the other mecha from his crew, looking on somewhat beseechingly. "Excuse me," he murmured to his mates, leaving them to accept the next round of well wishes, and headed over to his SIC.

"Good they stuck around this long," Charade huffed, uneasy about the small gathering with so many outsiders. "You're really going to give your spark to them tonight?"

"'Rade," Radiance murmured, smiling softly and relaxing with him in an easy, familiar stance, their helms resting against each other. "Yes. In every way that matters they already have it. A bond is almost formality at this point." 

"Just a very, very big formality," Charade struggled to control his worry. "I want you to be happy."

"I _am_ happy, I promise you I am," Radiance said, grinning. "You've seen me unhappy, and I _know_ there is no way to mistake the two. Unlike with you," he teased gently. 

Charade huffed. " _You_ would never mistake my state," he murmured, relaxing. "No, you're so far from unhappy it's unnatural, even for you."

"Mm, yes, and I am fluent in all the different moods that can be indicated by you grumbling," Radiance said, pulling the mech he had long considered a brother into a tight hug. "Thank you for being here, I know it's not really how you'd choose to spend an orn."

"Maybe not, but I'd never miss such an important moment in your existence. I saw you through the bad, I'm blasted well going to be there for the good," Charade muttered even as he returned it. 

Radiance snorted. "'Saw' me through? More like shoved me through with a hot poker."

Charade snickered. "You like to mope, it was the only way. Now get back to those mechs who make you so delirious. I'll keep the crew in check until you're back."

Radiance pressed a chaste, familiar kiss before hugging one last time and then letting go. "You should find someone to make you so delirious," he said, then grinned and winked. "Pretty sure Whiplash is single, why don't you try flirting him up?"

Charade shuddered. "No thank you. I want a nice, sweet little thing or two that are content to entertain each other, raise a sparkling or two and tolerate my work joors. Emphasis on _nice_ and _sweet_."

"I'll keep an optic out," Radiance promised, before heading back to his mates, who had finally escaped his creators and were lingering tellingly on the side of the room with the exit, seemingly unnoticed. Radiance tried to move over to them as casually as possible. "So ... escape?" 

" _So_ escape," Jazz agreed as they started sidling towards the door. "Pretend like we just really enjoy this side of the room, and want to get a closer look at that--"

"Hey! You lot!" came Brava's booming call, and they all froze and cringed, looking back at her leering grin. 

"Yes?" Prowl tried to ask innocently, which just seemed to make her grin worse.

"You'd better stretch my creation _very_ wide tonight," she cooed, the mixture of innocent and vulgar bringing a rumbling laugh from Whiplash as he reached for a pew back for support.

"Brava!" Radiance gasped in protest as Jazz started laughing and Prowl's jaw simply dropped open as he stared at her in disbelief.

"And you!" she said, pointing directly at Radiance. "You'd better have enough stamina in you to give them both a proper pounding, you are _my_ creation after all."

"He does," Jazz grinned manically at her. "No one is ever unsated in our berth."

"Primus below, don't engage her!" Radiance said, looked at the expression on Prowl's face, and made a very quick decision. "On three we run. Three!"

They took off, but not without hearing one more, "None of you had better be online come next orn!" before they escaped into the solitude of the bonding chambers that locked immediately behind them, not to open for one full orn. Jazz was giggling madly, much to the chagrin of his mates, who shook their heads, looked at each other, and then turned to give the chambers a better look.

True to his nature, Prowl's first movement was to check the entire room for security and for surveillance, then moved on to check that the supplies -- energon, goodies, high grade and plenty of cloths to clean up with -- were as expected. Only when everything checked out did he return to his mates and pulled Radiance into a passionate kiss that never failed to melt him into willing compliance.

"I want to be in the middle first tonight," he rumbled hotly. "Full hardline, spark merge and spread wide. It's as close as we'll ever be to bonding for real until _he's_ dealt with."

Radiance revved against him in full agreement, and behind, Jazz went oddly silent with a teek that made both his mates stop and look at him, flaring confusion and concern. 

"We could ... there's one step closer to us being bonded," Jazz said quietly. "Beyond just that."

It earned him a bewildered look from Prowl, his processor unable to make any connection between statement and reality.

"Saxo, no," Radiance said, shaking his head, concern and even some alarm in his field. 

Jazz glanced at him, then looked back to Prowl. "You and Radiance can still bond, have that with each other. When he is destroyed, I will join."

"No!" Prowl's response was pure fire, outrage and denial exploding in a maelstrom of emotion that shocked even him. "No," he repeated when the first shocked reaction had calmed. "We bond as a triad or not at all."

Jazz was staring at him, optics spiraled wide, still stunned from the sheer intensity that had lashed out around them for those few moments. "Why?" he asked, simply and calmly, reaching out and touching his face with light fingers as Radiance held and stroked their lover. 

Prowl pulled his first love close and kissed him, long and languid and full of desire. "Because it's not right to leave you out any more than we already do."

Jazz wrapped his arms around him, holding him just as tight, and rested his head against Prowl's shoulder. Radiance came against them and held them both as close as he could. "No amount of happiness we might get from bonding to each other could even begin to rival the grief of an incomplete triad bond," he explained softly. "It is even there when we merge, it would be so much worse in a bond. Waiting is a small price to pay." 

Jazz nuzzled and relaxed into the surrounding warmth. "Then we will bond as triad," he murmured. "And not until." 

"Good, now we have our bonding night to enjoy," Prowl rumbled as he nuzzled his first mate. "You can be in the middle first, if you want."

"Please," Jazz breathed, pressing in for a searing kiss that made Radiance's engines kick up and rev with excitement just to see. "You know how much I love being stretched." 

"Probably as much as we love stretching you," Radiance rumbled, moving around behind and grinding against him, hands running along Jazz's sides, down his flanks, back up to grip his aft. He kissed and nipped at Jazz's neck, then lifted his visor and glanced up with yellow optics at Prowl. "I want to go offline lodged in you beneath your spark," he said. "Once we've finished with him, and you with me."

Prowl's engine rumbled deep and strong, a sound echoed immediately by his mates as they moved as one to the berth. 

Limbs were tangled, armor became loose and panting, and each was covered and surrounded by his lovers in an intense flurry of cords, frames, and shuddering cries for what felt like an endless union until it was many joors later, and Prowl found himself being pushed and pulled over Radiance with Jazz moving in behind them, desire hot and bright in their fields.

Prowl was all past thinking already, but he recognized the being below him as Radiance and began to part his chest plates as his valve cycled in anticipation of the stretch and pleasure that always came with both his lovers. Deep inside, programming that he'd never been able to quell surged to activation to pulse his readiness to carry across his spark and the hardlines with an intensity that none of them, not even Prowl, had ever felt before.

Radiance moaned beneath him, back arching up, fingers tight on Prowl's shoulder as the first stage of the merge flared between them and even Jazz shook from the _want_ to fill their mate with new life, _their_ life, as desire flooded into him from across the hardline from both mates. His chest parted, chamber spiraled open, and his spark _surged_ forward only to strike the blocker and be immediately repelled. 

It was enough to jar him back, shaking, and still feeling the flooding need from his mates, strong enough to override their control. 

~ _No!_ ~ he shouted, as loud as he could, the single commanding glyph full of authority and desperation all at once.

The command, _Jazz's_ command, snapped Prowl out of everything almost instantly. The compulsion to obey his Lord was ingrained so deep it even froze him in a spark merge. Radiance gasped and shivered as the coding lock that had grabbed his processor and dug in first relaxed, then quieted, and released him from its hold. 

~You cannot create, you _will not_ create,~ Jazz said, voice calm and certain. ~We are not ready.~

~So strong,~ Radiance whispered from his spark, looking into Prowl's optics. ~It's never been so strong before.~

~I didn't realize it would be that strong,~ Prowl admitted, pulling out of the merge, somewhat dazed by the backlash of activating such powerful coding and then shutting it down so quickly. ~One position, I locked it into one position to keep it at bay. I never thought it would do _that_ in retaliation.~

~Intense,~ Radiance murmured, still shivering, still _wanting_. 

~It will activate like that only when we fill you together and you merge?~ Jazz questioned. ~No matter what our frames are doing? Or is it me behind you like this specifically, Radiance on his back?~

~Just like this, with you against my back,~ Prowl tried to explain. ~I tried to lock it into a three-way merge, but it wouldn't accept something that can't happen. I don't understand what its hurry is.~

~You are a Praxian with a triad, we are driven towards new life for our race,~ Radiance said, pulling him into a kiss. ~Beyond that, you have function coding to produce more of your kind for your Lords as profit. Limiting all your creation options apparently made it feel the need to increase its odds of success to balance out the decreased odds of this position. Some warning next time, my love,~ he murmured, nuzzling. ~I would have filled you hard and fast and not been able to stop myself on my own.~

~I'm sorry, I did not mean for it to be that intense,~ Prowl shuddered at the implications. Not that he would have created a new life, that still held appeal, but at the risk it contained to stress the three of them again. Having had a taste of what it meant to be a real creator, he was no longer sure he could give up a creation he'd carried himself.

Jazz moved forward to press his mouth against Prowl's back strut, swirling his glossa around a joint and then sucking gently. ~Would you like us to fill you,~ he rubbed his spike against Prowl's aft, ~Or would you like to continue the merge? Laying next to you with my chest open when you two overload is intense.~

Prowl shivered, his processors kicked into gear by the question. With a throaty hum he offered a different suggestion to his mates.

~Oh, _Prowler_ ,~ Jazz purred. ~You do know how to make me moan.~

~How to make all of us moan,~ Radiance said, pulling Prowl into a kiss as Jazz moved around to relax near their heads, stroking their helms until they pulled back from each other and he could claim his own kiss from each.

~I do my best,~ Prowl purred with pleasure at the approval and at the slid of a familiar spike into his valve. ~Let me taste your spike, my love.~

~Let us pleasure you,~ Radiance said, head tilted up and back to watch Jazz lift himself up and swing easily into a straddle over his face. He could feel the heat from his lover's valve from even this far and he wrapped his arms around Jazz's thighs, pulling himself up to x-vent over the dripping opening before sliding his glossa around it in a teasing swirl. He tasted lubricant and mixed transfluid and heard a choked moan and felt it through the hardline as Prowl took the offered spike into his mouth. Radiance's hips bucked up, pushing deeper into Prowl's frame, his own moan rising up from his chassis.

The pleasure both Jazz and Prowl took in the sensation of Prowl's mouth, glossa and intake around the thickly ruffled spike, and they all sank into the pleasure of their frames for several glorious kliks before Prowl unlocked his chest plates. Radiance echoed the motion, eager and wanting, and for the first time as their sparks moved forward and began to mingle, he did not feel the _wanting_ for a creation, only the bliss of being together, as close to a single life as they could be, hearing the moans from their mate, feeling his pleasure, feeling each other, until the world erupted into the brilliant radiance of a full merge. 

Their sparks knew each other well, over centuries of being close and from the few times they had merged being so completely open, and it was two beings who met in sublime joy, swirling around, tumbling, shivering in those ecstatic moments of being together. Every bit of that was shared with the mech trembling above them across the hardline connections, glossa and intake all working to add to Jazz's pleasure so he knew he was not forgotten, never forgotten, not even during a merge.

Prowl's systems cascaded into overload first, half primed to kindle as they were, and he keened his bliss shamelessly around his mate's spike, swallowing easily when Jazz cried out and bucked, hands grabbing Prowl's helm to hold himself upright as his valve quivered and gripped around Radiance's swirling glossa.

Radiance sobbed beneath them, almost not feeling his spike shooting deep into Prowl beyond the intensity of a spark overload and the joy of feeling Jazz's pleasure over the hardline, but his hips drove again and again, slamming up into the tight heat. 

When it was over, when the final joules dissipated with a soft crackling of static beneath their armor, Radiance let his head fall back, optics offlined and frame shivering and panting. ~My mates, my bondeds,~ he whispered. ~My _bondeds_.~

~Yours,~ Jazz purred, moving up and off, stretching out and collapsing against them. 

~Yours,~ Prowl echoed to them both. ~Mine. Ours.~ He shivered faintly, barely online as his armor closed to protect his spark once more. He reached out to clumsily pull Jazz a little closer as he collapsed on top of Radiance. ~Triad.~

~ _Strong,_ ~ Jazz said. ~We are strong. Now we plan, soon we will hunt, soon we will _catch_.~ The grin that crossed his face, as exhausted as he was, as close as he was snuggled in with his mates, was still wild and feral. 

Radiance shivered. ~Yes,~ he murmured, as much as it still sometimes unsettled him to see this part of Jazz. The knowledge of what had been done to create the pair waylaid any protests he might have once had. He would help them hunt, he would help them catch, and they would _destroy_ , and that promise was pushed through the hardline. Thanks and approval and a wordless promise that he would not need to do anything he did not believe in came back just as strongly before they all settled into a content and exhausted recharge.

* * *

"You should put red in along with mine, so it spirals around the gold," Radiance said, leaning over Prowl's shoulder and pointing at the design on the table. They were working on the rough draft of the triad pattern to have etched into their chevrons as an even more permanent mark of their status and devotion. While it could be removed, it was a painful process. With Prowl's financial genius at investing and multiplying their income, the combination of all their formal designation glyphs would be colored, inlaid with precious metals and even strategically placed gemstones and diamond dust.

"And make sure that bottom section is sketched heavy enough to weigh down the more complicated top--like that, thicker lines," Jazz said, leaning over his other shoulder. 

"Which should be bright blue, definitely," Radiance said. 

"Oh, and with that silvery blue as shadowing," Jazz added. 

"Yes!" Radiance agreed. "That would look amazing, it'll echo the other silvers perfectly--make sure those are parallel," he told Prowl, pointing.

"Loves, the coloring really should be discussed with the artist," Prowl said a bit wearily. "I can draft well enough, but this is far more complex than my skills were meant for."

They winced a little guiltily and glanced at each other, before Jazz leaned in to press a trail of kisses up Prowl's neck and Radiance moved in to start rubbing his shoulder joints. "I'm sorry, we're stressing you," Radiance said, and Jazz hummed in agreement. 

"It's just very exciting," Jazz said, nipping at the cables a little. "We'll tone it down a bit." 

Radiance nodded, working his way down the back strut. "Or a lot." 

Prowl simply groaned at the attention, then nearly melted between them when two sets of magnetic palms clicked on to soothe him. "Happy with the basic concept of the lines?"

Jazz lifted his head to look over the draft for a moment. "Yes. Although--"

Radiance reached over and twisted his chevron, getting a yelp that was more play effect than anything. 

"Yes," Radiance purred against Prowl's audial, while Jazz went back to sucking on his neck and working his hands opposite Radiance's to massage the back plating. "We'll pester the artist about colors until it's perfect."

"That, and to ensure it looks good, is why we pay an _artist_ to do this," Prowl moaned shamelessly at the attention. He collected enough though to send off the design and what notes he'd gotten so far so their artist would have plenty of time to play with it. Then his focus was on kissing Radiance until the mech was sinking to his knees and burning with desire, Jazz right alongside him as they pushed Prowl's chair back together and settled in front of him.

Jazz leaned in to x-vent over Prowl's spike cover before flicking his glossa along the heating metal as Radiance rested his head on Prowl's thigh, optics looking up at him mischievously. "You know, I don't think we've done _this_ as a legally bonded triad yet," he said, grinning. 

"That should be rectified immediately," Jazz purred, nuzzling Prowl's hip and using his hand to dip into the joint while Radiance lifted a magnetized palm to hold over the spike cover.

Prowl groaned and unlatched the cover, but the magnet prevented him from sliding it open, even though he could feel his spike trying to pressurize, pushing up at the metal from beneath as Radiance rubbed his hand in small, careful circles. "Yes, it should be," he managed. 

Jazz moved in to kiss his way around the edges, trailing his glossa through the seams, brushing his fingers between Radiance's and tickling over the cover that was growing hotter every nanoklik, desperate to be allowed to slide back. "So hot," he purred against Prowl's armor. "You must be getting so hard in there."

"Very," Prowl groaned from deep in his chassis. His hands found his mate's helms and he rubbed them, encouraging them to keep going, to do more, or just keep teasing him mercilessly. Because in the end, it was always magnificent when his lovers took charge.

Jazz shifted and as one with Radiance, they pushed Prowl's legs as far apart as they could go, both of them settling down next to each other, wings angled back so their sides could be flush, and then Radiance quickly swapped his hands out so the outside one was holding the cover, teasing with Jazz, while their inside hands reached down and crossed into each other's laps, and Prowl heard the sound of two valve covers sliding away. It was quickly followed by two soft moans and pleasured shivers as the scent of both their lubricants hit him, _hard_ , and they lifted their heads to turn towards each other in a deep, molten kiss, every bit of it a perfect display for their mate, from the pressing lips to the dancing glossas, flicking off each other teasingly.

Prowl shivered, his vents hitching as he watched. No one watching would believe they weren't spark-bonded with the fluid synchronicity of their movements or the way they made Prowl tremble without actually touching him.

"Please," Prowl all but whimpered, his optics bright and full of need as he watched.

"Ooh, he asked nicely," Radiance purred, lifting fingers slick from Jazz's valve up between their mouths and two glossas slid out to clean them together. The fingers slipped away again and the lips pressed together with a deeper moan coming from each mech. 

Prowl whined.

"He is being very good," Jazz murmured against his lover, not looking like they were going to stop any time soon. 

"He _is_ ," Radiance said, grinning, and then did something with his hand between Jazz's legs that made the youngest whine and shake. "I think we should reward him." His voice lowered into a husky whisper. "I think he wants us to suck his spike, run our glossas all over, touch everything."

"Yes!" Prowl keened, shaking with need. "Please. At least let me extend. It _aches_."

"Mmm, what do you think, yes?" Radiance asked Jazz, who kissed slowly and deeply, seeming to think over his answer for several long, torturous moments. 

Finally, he nodded. "Yes," he purred back against Radiance. 

Radiance released the cover and moved his hand back, fingers curled for Prowl's spike to move through them as it extended in a single, swift motion. As soon as it was fully pressurized, before even Prowl's moan of relief had finished, Radiance and Jazz had turned in and tilted their heads, each pressing their glossas to a side and licking the entire length up.

"Oh, yes," Prowl rewarded them vocally and through his field, every flicker one of joy, pleasure and thanks as his helm fell back in another sign of the trust he had for these two. "So good to me."

"We'll be better than good," Radiance purred against him as he mouthed down to the base, rubbing the shaft with loose fingers, as Jazz worked up and took the tip into his mouth, sucking on it. Their inside hands were still lowered and stroking each other, adding their own pleasure into the familiar, meshing fields. Jazz started pushing down, taking more and more of the length in, humming around it. 

Prowl's hands flexed and stroked their helms as he moaned in the bliss that was only half physical. Even after more than two centuries, he felt no less intensity at being with his triad than he had the first time. It was exquisite and pleasurable and stroked coding he still felt as new. "Won't last long."

Jazz chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound from his chassis that went straight into Prowl's spike, making him gasp and shudder as Radiance kissed his way around the base. Jazz lifted his head, slowly, pressing his glossa up and massaging every ridge along the length, tracing and tasting. 

"Not surprised. Oh, Saxo, faster," Radiance breathed, rocking his hips against Jazz's hand, and Jazz jumped and moaned at the same time as the hum of the electromagnets in the palm that was rubbing between his legs. "Come on, 'Tera," he moaned. "Spill on us, all over our faces." 

Jazz whined at the thought and pulled off the spike with a gasp before pressing his glossa and curling it around the underside of the head, looking up at Prowl through lifted optics. "We'll lick it off each other," he purred, and nuzzled the shaft for a moment before tipping his head sideways and pressing lips to metal, rubbing up and down opposite Radiance. 

The very suggestion of that visual made Prowl tremble and brought his face forward to look down at them. A kiss, a few more swirling licks and he keened, his frame stiffening as his hips thrust into the air. Hot, charged transfluid erupted from the tip of his spike to arch onto his lovers as they positioned themselves to catch it.

Their first kiss was slick, sliding, as they turned from Prowl to focus on each other and the show they were putting on, then glossas were darting out, licking, tasting, swallowing, until their mouths were clean and Radiance cupped his hand around Jazz's neck and moved to lick up along his cheek, moving his way over until he'd gotten every drop. He let go and tilted his face up for Jazz to do the same, purring the entire time, gaze fixed on Prowl. 

When Jazz was done he pushed Radiance back to the floor, the dark mech going willingly, spreading his legs and lifting his knees as his lover continued to push his fingers in and out. "Let me taste you," Radiance gasped suddenly, back arching. 

Jazz complied all too happily and moved around so he was above Radiance, valve bared over his face, his own head dipping between Radiance's thighs, and they moaned in unison as they started licking each other together. 

"Primus you two will _melt_ me," Prowl groaned, shivering with a charge that had only partially abated after the first overload. His fingers pressed into his valve, already slick and aching to be filled.

Jazz lifted his head for long enough to grin at him before Radiance pushed his hips up demandingly with a rumbling growl. Jazz revved his own engines in response and lowered his head back down, rubbing his glossa over the slickened valve. "'S good for a mech your age," he teased Prowl between licks. 

"I have much more in me than two rounds, mechling," Prowl growled back, only to have it spiral into a shivering moan as his fingers spread him wide and rubbed against enough interior nodes to light up his sensor net.

Jazz purred deeply, hips rocking over Radiance's face and the hot, swirling glossa. "Doesn't count if you have to recharge in between, lover," he said, to a rumbling laugh from Radiance that was not quite stifled quickly enough. 

The dark mech tilted his head back, looking up at Prowl from between Jazz's spread out thighs. "Don't tell me you're gonna let him talk to you like that," he said, grinning hugely, before his gaze fixed on the way Prowl was pleasuring himself and his engines gave a hard, sharp rev of _want_ that quickly turned into a moan when Jazz dipped his head. 

"Maybe I should spike him while you keep licking," Prowl suggested with a deep rumble.

Jazz gave a short, sharp moan. 

"And when you've finished with his young aft, I'll be right here to bury myself between your legs and get at your valve," Radiance purred, mouthing at Jazz's as he spoke. " _Taste_ you both mixing on my glossa. The flip you over and pound you into the floor like you're wanting." 

"Please!" both other mecha keened in desperate desire all at once. Prowl moved, a scramble to kneel over Radiance's face with his legs inside of Jazz's. With no prep or warning he slammed his spike home into the valve that had been selected for exactly his spike.

Jazz gave a deep, pleasured cry, arching back, and Radiance tilted his head back as far as possible, pressing his glossa up right where his mates' frames where joined, flicking continuously so Prowl could feel sensation from him along his entire length as he pushed and pulled, slamming into Jazz again and again. 

"Frag _yes!_ " Jazz cried, back arching and valve shuddering around the perfect thickness. 

"Don't you _dare_ stop," Radiance gasped, lifting his hips with a needy whine as he pressed back in, working his glossa over every surface he could reach, moaning when Jazz pushed in with his.

"So hot," Prowl moaned, his hands gripping Jazz's hips to hold him still right where Radiance wanted him. "Such a good little slut for us, my love. So eager for anything we want to do to you. Lick him well. I want Radiance to overload with us."

Jazz gave an eager rumble and swirled his glossa around and then in a cycling pattern that made Radiance start gasping within moments, rocking his hips against the strokes, his grip on Jazz's hips tightening. He shivered--his mate knew his frame well and knew _just_ how--and suddenly it was a struggle to _not_ overload and he groaned with the effect of it, the rapidly increasing bliss tumbling into his field and bringing his lovers quickly along. 

Jazz was shuddering with each thrust, shaking from being held still, moaning against Radiance's valve and cycling his own in ever-tightening cycles around Prowl. " _Yes_ ," he gasped, between heavy, wet licks. "Just--yes--oh-- _yes!_ " he cried out, so close he was quivering, fighting just as hard as Radiance was to hold on and enjoy the perfect, stretching, denting pounding.

Prowl's bellow was the first to echo through the room as he pumped burst after burst of crackling transfluid deep into his mate, too much sensation for Jazz to take and his own frame shuddered in overload, his deep, sobbing moan pressed right against Radiance's valve, the dual washes of energy pushing the dark mech over with his lovers, all three shaking together.

The instant Radiance recovered himself he pushed back, wrapped arms around Prowl's thighs, and sank his glossa into his mate's dripping valve. Prowl shuddered over him and gripped Jazz's hips tighter to brace himself. Moans rolled from him as his valve cycled and calipers squeezed, trying to draw that pleasurable glossa deeper inside him.

Radiance rumbled deeply into him as Jazz shifted his attentions from valve to x-venting over Radiance's spike cover, which snapped open as soon as it was brushed, tip coming out, slipping easily between Jazz's lips and extending quickly. Jazz licked and sucked, caressing with his glossa, preparing Radiance to take Prowl as hard as he wanted. 

"Just like that," he moaned to Jazz when his lover swallowed, pushing his hips up. "He's got me hard for you," he purred to Prowl, speaking against the platelets, nuzzling and kissing. "Can feel how much you want it, you're so slick."

"I'm watching him. He loves to suck, loves to lick," Prowl moaned, rocking into the glossa working him. "I want that wonderful spike in me. I want feel you come undone inside and over me."

"Then on your back and spread for it," Radiance rumbled deeply, giving the valve one last, hot swirl of his glossa before lowering his head back down. Prowl didn't hesitate to slide sideways and back, settling with his doorwings flared out, his legs spread and an open display of his quivering valve and still pressurized spike.

"Take me, love," Prowl reached out for Radiance, wanting and offering all in one pose.

Radiance moaned at the sight, head tilted back to watch, Jazz still over him and sucking his spike until he reached up to brush his hips, just enough pressure for his younger mate to lift his head and move off. Radiance sat, shot Jazz a wicked grin. "Get your spike hard for him, we'll see how many rounds this 'old' mech can go between us." 

"Enough to leave you both panting on the floor," Prowl grinned defiantly back, looking forward to the test very much.

Jazz grinned back. "We will see about that," he purred deeply, settling himself to watch, fingers playing over his housing, teasing himself as Radiance turned.

He crawled to Prowl, every movement showing his easy grace, and licked all the way up his lover's spike, getting a good taste of the mixed fluids coating it and moaning before snaking his way up. He brought one of Prowl's legs with him, pushing his spike home in a flawless, unbroken motion that made them both shudder. He moaned at the first ripples of the heated valve and rocked, pulling out before driving back. "Hard enough for you?" he purred.

"Yes," Prowl moaned as he squeezed around the second spike he adored so much, relishing the way it slid in and out of him. "You feel so good."

"So do you," Radiance moaned, setting his pace to drive them both towards the hardest, fastest overload he could manage. "Oh, lover, so do you."

* * *

Jazz relaxed in the engraver's workchair, his optics only half lit as the lithe femme with elegantly swooping wings far more reminiscent of a flier than the grounder she was worked on his chevron's center. He'd declined the sensor blocker, assuring her that he could handle the pain. He was well aware it would hurt, but it would be nothing like the pain he knew from elsewhere, and more than anything, he wanted to be fully aware of everything relating to this most visible marker of his status and who he belonged to.

"Well then," the engraver said with a smile, finishing with one section and pulling her hand back to change the stylized pointer to a thinner one. "I really thought you wouldn't make it through that. Tough mecha come in and say they can handle it and then back out within nanokliks."

Jazz smiled faintly, completely at ease, gaze shifting to his observing mates. "I do not make exaggerated claims as to my abilities."

"Only because we'll call you on it," Radiance snickered. "These two don't need the blocker, but I'm not their kind of tough."

"I think you refer to it as our kind of crazy," Prowl chuckled lightly, relaxing against Radiance and watching with fascination and growing pleasure as the work continued. "I'm going to enjoy tracing that engraving every time I can."

"Careful you don't wear it off," the femme teased, her voice rippling with light laughter and wings flicking with the same, though her hand remained absolutely steady. 

"I'll keep his hands busy elsewhere," Jazz promised her.

Radiance grinned from where he stood behind Prowl, arms around his mate's waist. It felt amazing to watch this happen. As amazing as the bonding ceremony had been, and the interfacing afterwards, this was something far more permanent. Even though Radiance knew that the pair could make it disappear within a klik if they chose, that they could change their forms to nearly anything they could get the schematics of, this was still a permanent mark. They'd know it was there, even if it wasn't always visible.

In the absence of a triad spark bond, these engravings were something solid and permanent, far more than the legal forms that didn't even have his mates' true identities on them. He rested his head on Prowl's shoulder, blissfully content to be with his triad, and felt everything returned from both the field he was pressed against and the light blue optics that were watching him.

It was good to be so wanted.


	37. A Taste of Vengeance

Being called in to work earlier than expected never left Jazz in a good mood, being called in earlier than expected and cutting short time he'd been planning to spend with his mates put him in an _awful_ one.

So he walked into Whiplash's local office and just held his hand out, waiting for his assignment, intent on finishing it as soon as possible and seeing if he couldn't get back above ground before too long. 

Whiplash cocked his head at him. "I got you a bonding present," he said, holding the docket up.

"My bonding was two centuries ago," Jazz said. "You're a little late."

"I think you'll find it was worth the wait," Whiplash's grin was utterly vicious, something close to what Jazz looked like when he was manic. "I've cleared Pantera to be here, if you'd like his other victim to witness."

Jazz's optics flickered in a surprised blink, then he strode forward and took the datapad, opening the file's contents with a quick flick of his fingers. 

When he saw the designation, shock came first, then a glee that was as vicious and deep as Whiplash's. "What did he do to get here?" he purred, looking up, engines humming dangerously.

"His last playroom subject was an undercover agent," Whiplash didn't conceal his growl or how angry he was. "We _must_ know if he knew what he had, if the agent let anything slip and who else was there."

Jazz snarled. "Little creep," he said. "Definitely gets off on pain, did you have a programmer work on him already, or should I get creative?"

"I had his masochism protocols locked into a switch we control," Whiplash said evenly. "You may turn them back on if you wish; I do approve of when you get creative. I want this one to _hurt_ , Jazz. Once you get what I need from him, he is all yours, and your mate's. Just make sure he never leaves this facility, however long you decide to keep him."

"He'll hurt, 'Lash," Jazz rumbled, a terrible promise behind those words. "This one has _much_ to pay for." His grin became savage as he looked at the file and the picture of a face that had haunted him and his mate, and his voice slipped down into a deep, sultry purr. "Hello, Lockpick."

* * *

There was no hiding the eager quivering in Jazz's frame as he looked at the screen showing the wiry grounder, strung up by his wrists in the middle of the room beyond. There was no fear in his field--Lockpick had never touched him, not once--only a deep, burning desire to take this piece of revenge. 

The creature hanging before them was less than mech to him, it was a _thing_ to be slowly, slowly taken apart. 

"If you're going to watch, I hope you know I plan to draw this out," Jazz purred to his boss.

"I have no doubt," Whiplash rumbled. "I have to see to my work, but I'm going to enjoy as much of this as I can. I have no doubts that you'll do a masterful job of making him pay for _everything_."

"No doubt," Prowl's deeper, resonant purr added to the conversation from behind them. "It's not _him_ , but he was a common visitor to the parties."

"If it was realistic, I'd devote an orn for every nanoklik of pain he caused you," Jazz hummed. "But an orn for every joor will suffice. For the agent, as well," his voice deepened into a growl. "Who knows how many more beyond that. In or out?" he asked Whiplash.

"Out," Whiplash shook his helm. "I know when to cede to my betters in skill."

Jazz tilted his head, smirking a little, unable to hide his pleasure at the compliment in those words. "I'll make him hurt, 'Lash, I'll make him _scream_ and beg to gutter and then slap on some repairs and do it all over again." His grin was ravenous. "We'll go through plenty of spikes. Kiss, Prowler," he purred, gesturing his mate over. Prowl willingly complied and drew his mate against him, ravaging his mouth before surrendering to reply.

"It will be good to see one of them pay," Prowl rumbled, all sense of normal morals stripped from him by the short message he'd received.

"And I'll give you _such_ a show," Jazz promised, took one last kiss, tossed a grin at Whiplash, and headed in.

Lockpick looked up as soon as Jazz entered and hissed at him, rattling his armor in a threat display. 

"Bad tempered," Jazz remarked, and stood in front of him, weight to one side and doorwings relaxed, arms crossed in front of his chest. "Know why you're here?" 

"Dunno where _here_ is," Lockpick muttered sullenly, looking around the room. "S'impolite." 

Jazz chuckled. "Maybe so. Have a guess?" 

Lockpick squirmed, scowling at the Praxian. "Don't hurt no one loved, not safe, take apart the unloved pretties, make them loved, love every bit." 

Jazz had to force down a faint shudder of his armor. "You did take apart someone loved, and I need to hear about it. Your last toy, he looked like this," he pulled a datapad and held it out with the lost agent's picture. 

Lockpick trilled immediately. "He was so good," he sing-songed, "So pretty in pieces and he never cried he was so good to me, didn't call me names like some."

"How did you get him?" 

"Came home with me," Lockpick said, excited just by the memory of it. "Coaxed him right in with promises he wanted younglings but I didn't have any just had a place for us just for us," he purred. "Lotsa want youngsters there. Magnet traps and then tied up, chains," his intakes rattled, "Put them in chains." 

"I'd like to hear more," Jazz purred. "Every detail." 

Lockpick went lax with overwhelmed giddy joy as he recounted every gruesome detail of what he'd done to the agent, every scream he'd heard, the pitch and length, how the different metals from his frame had tasted, how the hole carved into his throat had gone right into his intake and how he'd choked when Lockpick shoved his spike in. The retelling took almost a joor with the level of detail being put into it, in the voice of someone remembering the gentle caress of a lover.

* * *

As he watched one of his best interrogators and likely successor in action Whiplash kept his field tuned to the larger mech next to him. At times he was amazed at how little Prowl looked like himself despite having similar colors and frame to his original. Even the way he carried himself was similar. A mech of authority, but not of political status. Even without his markings and Enforcer upgrades there was no doubting that this mech was one who was entitled to authority. Yet no one who did not know that Pantera was Prowl suspected, even when they were sure that Pantera was not the mech's real designation.

It made Whiplash want the Praxian as an agent all the more. Between the three of them he was sure there was nothing they could not accomplish quickly and efficiently. Jazz had no morals he was not given, a social chameleon nature and intense loyalty. Prowl was frighteningly efficient at whatever he put his processors to, had a love of order and records that few outside the independent news mecha came close to and the ability to make and accept incredibly difficult choices. Radiance had an optic for puzzles and making connections and was far better connected to the outside world than either of his mates would ever be.

Acting as a single entity and if given the authority that Jazz would one orn earn, the three of them could put the empire to rights. Whiplash simply had to convince the most stubborn of them of that fact.

As they watched Jazz work, it was strange to teek and watch his mate begin to rumble with approval. Arousal tickled across Prowl's field, but Whiplash knew well the teek of a trained response. Prowl had been conditioned to find this arousing, and Whiplash soon couldn't help himself. "How long did it take to become numb to the abuse?" he asked, his voice low, as if speaking normally would reach those in the room beyond and disturb them.

"Five decaorns, perhaps a metacycle," Prowl answered without hesitation or care. "Much of that vorn's files are corrupted."

"Understandably," Whiplash nodded. Vortex would have been an exceptional interrogator and trainer of them, but Whiplash would not betray his existing prize by recruiting the rotor. That and he had no doubt that the rotor was loyal to none but himself. It wasn't a good trait when given so little oversight and so few laws to actually obey. "Are you still happy as a patrol officer? You know you could be so much more."

"I know," Prowl's smile was faint, the trace in his field that of amusement. "It is simply not in my nature to desire more. Radiance said I could rule the empire if I set my sights on it."

"With the three of you, I expect he's right," Whiplash nodded, amazed and a touch disturbed by the truth behind what he was hearing. To have so much ability and no desire to claim as much as possible just wasn't natural. Useful, but unnatural. "You have a great deal going for your triad, loyalty most of all."

"Jazz and I were bred and trained for it," Prowl shrugged. "Radiance comes by it more naturally. Though I agree it is a source of strength for us." Prowl turned his helm to look at what was arguably one of the more powerful mecha in the empire. Whiplash wasn't at the top, but he was close enough to act with impunity to a great extent. "What does it take to have an oligarch like _him_ brought down here?"

Whiplash hid how startled he was at being asked anything, much less such a pointed question. Unfortunately the answer was as simple as it was difficult to make happen. "He'd have to anger the Prime, a royal, ranking noble or a powerful Senator enough that all his credits and connections can't buy his way out."

Prowl gave a thoughtful hum than turned into a plotting smile filling the silence.

Whiplash let him be.

* * *

It took many orns, orns that Prowl couldn't stay all the way through to see everything without having to attend to his duties above ground, but Jazz forced Lockpick to recount the entire story over and over, each time applying a different, and gradually worsening kind of pain. For this stage, the working stage, he'd turned off Lockpick's masochism protocols entirely, and it took a thrillingly small amount of pain stimuli to make him thrash. 

"Tol' you," Lockpick hiccupped through a wrecked-sounding sob with exhausted, rattling vents. "Not lying!" When Jazz lifted a hand at him, he squealed and shrank back as much as he could, pitiful and trembling. 

Jazz was certainly willing to believe him at this point, and let his hand fall. ::I think he really doesn't know anything, 'Lash. Thing's too much of a creep to be working with others on something as intricate as luring and trapping an agent, too self-centered and too _stupid_ to have done it on his own. I think it was just awful, awful chance.::

::All right. He's all yours then. I'll let Prowl know it's play time.::

::Thank you,:: Jazz purred. ::Come by and watch when you can.:: 

Whiplash sent an excited rumble of intent to do just that, and the line cut. 

"We're going to take a break," Jazz said, stretching his arms up over his head. "And get back to this later." 

"But I told you!" Lockpick whined. 

"I know," Jazz said. "We're done with that. Here," he flicked the masochism protocols back on and set them to a rotating cycle. The change in the mech hanging before him was immediate. The pained, rattling vents became clear and steady, engines gave a surprised purr, and Jazz watched as he went lax with bliss, spike extending immediately, pushing into the air. 

"Touch," Lockpick whimpered pitifully, hips thrusting into nothing. "Pretty one touches it?" 

Jazz snorted. "No. Someone will be joining us, I'll be back. Until then..." The klik cycle passed and the protocols flipped off, to the howling displeasure of his victim. 

"Bring it back!" Lockpick screeched at him. 

"It'll be back," Jazz said, and grinned viciously. "Every klik." 

Lockpick stared at him in pained confusion. 

"You're going to be here for a while," Jazz said. "This will be our routine every time I leave. Always something to look forward to. Enjoy," he purred, and walked out of the room to the enraged shriek behind.

* * *

Prowl had to finish his shift, so Jazz had three and a half joors to kill before his mate was escorted to his office. One glance around at the displayed courting mementos and the Praxian purred. "You left it all up."

"Of course I did," Jazz said, pulling Prowl into his lap and leaning in to nip at his neck, arms around his waist and bringing him snug. "'Lash made me take down the stuff I had displayed on the door, but I like seeing it all when I come in here. Helps when I haven't seen you two in a while."

"I'm sure it does," Prowl murmured, purring as they kissed and he happily sank into his mate's pleased field to twine his with it. His legs settled to either side, straddling Jazz's lap with anticipatory heat. "I'm glad he allows us to visit on occasion. Especially today. Is five orns enough?"

"I can fit a lot into five orns," Jazz purred, nudging his hips up suggestively. "He's happily waiting right now, want to give him another joor before I start in?" 

"A joor, or however long it takes you to scramble my processors," Prowl rumbled hotly as he valve cover slid open and he pressed a kiss to Jazz's lips, nipping lightly. "But before I leave here, I want to hardline with you as you spike his spark when it gutters."

"Absolutely," Jazz said, not hiding how eager he was to experience that thrill with his mate again. Hips lifted, spike sliding out smoothly with the motion and sinking into his lover with a deep, relieved groan. "Just tell me how long you want him to suffer and I'll do it, we can leave him rusting for longer than that if you want to come back for it."

Prowl shivered in the pleasure and the promise. "An orn for every joor," he purred into Jazz's audial and cycled his valve. His possition allowed very little movement, but he rocked his hips and worked his internals around the spike his interface system had been designed for. "That was your original call. I like it, so long as he does not know that he only has so long."

"Glitch might still think he's getting out alive," Jazz moaned, arms around Prowl's waist and rocking into the perfect heat, orns of _hurting_ leaving him wound up and struggling not to overload just from this. "Gonna tell him who we are, can't wait to see the look on his face." A savage, wild grin as he pushed and pulled from the perfectly tight space. "I can even ask for an update on my own, beloved bonded."

"Yes," Prowl moaned. "They were often together. He must have some idea what _he_ is up to. How hard he's looking."

Jazz nodded against Prowl's neck. "And then the little--glitch--will pay," he gasped, and shuddered. "For everything he did to you, every--ah-- _ahh!_ " he cried and bucked, shooting crackling transfluid into his lover in burst after burst, holding him flush as he shook. 

Prowl moaned, shaking at the intensity of the charge, so close he was keening by the time he'd worked that exquisite spike with his valve enough to cry out with his mate in an intense overload. 

Jazz drove up until he felt the rippling in the valve relax and then subside, reduced to faint quivers, and then slowed and stilled, panting, grinning against Prowl's neck. "Everyone who ever hurt you under his watch, as many as I can find, they'll pay," he vowed. 

"Thank you, my love," Prowl murmured, honored that his mate wished to avenge him. "I look forward to this first step, this first kill, in evening the score."

Jazz purred, just as honored to have that gift received. His spike slipped away and the cover closed back up and he tilted his head back. "Shall we? He's been waiting so patiently, it would be rude to keep him."

"Yes," Prowl purred, reluctant and eager to move all at once. His valve cover slid closed, holding much of what Jazz had pumped into him inside before he slid back, off Jazz's lap and onto his pedes. "We will have plenty of time to indulge in his frame and in each other," Prowl purred a promise that had once meant that he would be the entertainment and now would become a bright moment in his memories. He offered his hand to his mate. "I will enjoy this so much more knowing how much he enjoyed my frame."

Jazz accepted the hand and rose, not bothering to clean off the slickness on his thighs before leading his mate out into the maze of tunnels. "We will potentially have more than a few observing at times," he warned. "Everyone enjoys seeing an agent killer suffering."

"Which will indulge your love of being on display," Prowl purred, every glyph resonating that he liked the trait that was normal for a noble second creation. "I have no doubt of the quality of a performance you will give them, and the recordings."

"From every angle," Jazz confirmed as they entered the lift to take them down to the deeper level Lockpick was being held on. He pushed his mate against the wall, kissing him hungrily, running hands along his flanks until they were both gasping by the time the door opened again, just a short walk from the room their once-tormentor was being held in. Both mechs were running hot by the time they entered the room that Prowl had spent so much time in lately. Jazz was hot at the prospect of what was coming, Prowl at the prospect of what it did to his mate and no small amount of satisfaction from the vengeance.

Two mecha were already waiting inside, watching the video screen and snickering. One had all the provocative, painted up markings of a pleasurebot turned buymech, the other was a Praxian that Prowl never would have looked twice at passing on the street, he was so absolutely average in appearance. 

"Saxo," they greeted in unison, grinning at him. 

"This is really pretty entertaining," the pleasurebot said, gesturing at the viewscreen, where Lockpick was hanging limply. "Just switched a quarter klik ago, watch."

From what Prowl could tell, Lockpick seemed to be panting in relief, looking dazed, before there was a sudden shift after another quarter klik and he started squirming, whining, and muttering to himself, getting more and more upset as another half klik went by until he was all but sobbing, and then there was a screech and the entire frame went rigid. 

"Masochism protocols switching on and off on a klik rotation," Jazz purred, obviously enjoying the effect. " _That_ processor can't adjust to the pain in one klik, and he spends the entire pleasure klik counting down to the switch."

"That's mean," Prowl purred with absolute approval. "It'll almost be a pity to permanently end the show."

"I'd be happy to leave him like this for a vorn, but I think he would be too insane by the end of it to realize what he was paying for," Jazz said, cocking his head at the screen, then grinning. "Don't worry, we can keep playing with this, and just think how nice to take little bits of him apart like he did."

"Yes," Prowl's full engine rumble of anticipation made both of the watching agents give him another look. He pressed against Jazz's back and nuzzled him. "As enjoyable as this is, I want to watch you play with him."

"I want to get my hands in his wiring," Jazz said, shivering, nodding to both agents, who nodded back with eager glints in their optics as the pair went into the room. 

The protocols switched back on just as they entered, to the relieved sob of Lockpick followed by an enraged screech as soon as he saw Jazz. 

" _You!_ You left me like this turn it off turn it off!" he howled, thrashing. 

Jazz smirked, shrugged, and waved his hand, turning the protocols off with a thought, making his victim shake and shriek. 

" _Not like that!_ " 

"Demanding little thing, isn't he," Jazz commented, Prowl flush against his back, hand up and finger under his mate's chin. "Kind of reminds me of an old friend of yours, Lockpick, you remember a rotor who liked to hold parties?" 

There was a confused flicker. "Vortex? I can tell you all about Vortex! Anything you want!" 

"Anything," Jazz hummed, and pretended to think. "You remember he had a noble bonded and a toy for a while, Praxian without his wings?" 

Lockpick's face fell. "Oh," he mumbled. "Dun know where they are, didn't take 'em I swear!" He moaned. "Pleeeease give it back!" 

"I don't want to know where the are, I want to know what he did after they left," Jazz said. 

Lockpick shuddered and shifted in his chains. "Obsessed with finding them," he muttered. "Didn't hold no parties no more, 's all he does."

Prowl made a displeased sound, but otherwise held his peace to give Jazz the control this room entitled him to.

Jazz nuzzled his mate. "You remember playing with the Praxian, though?" 

That roused a more interested perk out of the dangling grounder. "Took little bits," he said, the memories apparently enough to counteract even the pain he was in. "Over and over little bits. Screamed so pretty spike in him while he screamed good." 

Jazz regarded him silently for a moment along with his mate, then stepped forward. "I'd like to show you something," he said, cable in hand. 

Lockpick just glared at him. 

"I'll turn the protocols on if you open," Jazz offered, and the dataport was open almost before the words were out. Jazz smirked, turned them on, and plugged in before reaching down to caress the extended spike as he offered his memories. 

Lockpick gave a shuddering moan when Jazz sank his claws into the thin, sensitized metal, hips bucking against it, and then realized what he was seeing and choked with shock. "Y-you!" he stammered, overbright optics shooting to Prowl next. " _You!_ " 

"Us," Jazz purred deeply, seductively, turned the protocols off, and reveled in the agonized scream that surrounded him, went through him, caressed his plating as he clawed deeper into the spike. His own hard against Lockpick's frame, he dug in and twisted a piece off and then shoved it into his victim's mouth. "Little bits, Lockpick," he said. "We're going to take you apart bit by little bit." 

"And we have no time limit," Prowl added with a low rumble as he stepped around and picked out a bit of unmarked plating and dug his claw in, leaving a long, shallow gash.

Lockpick whimpered pitifully, engines squealing with panic, looking between the pair. "P-please, give you anything!" 

"Good," Jazz whispered in his audial, claws going back down to his spike and stroking along it, to the thrashing cries of his prisoner. "We want your _pain_." 

A shattering howl filled the room as the spike was pierced, twisted, and left hanging there, mangled and useless, but still sending sensory data to its owner.

"Do you remember everything you did to me during those parties?" Prowl rumbled next to Lockpick's audial. "Because I do. And I will recreate them all on you while my love, my Jazz, does as pleases him."

A hiccupping sob of staggered vents greeted that, the faintest flicker of hope--Lockpick had never deactivated Prowl, after all, and he was always repaired afterward--that was quickly drowned out by Jazz's next pinch and tear as the two brutally and efficiently began peeling away the outer plating, piece by piece, tossing them on the floor. 

::Tell me you're watching this,:: Jazz commed over to Whiplash after a while, letting the sounds of Lockpick's wails come through, ::Even if you can't be here, think you'll like this next part.::

::Patching in now.:: Whiplash purred eagerly. ::You have four agents in the observation room as well.::

::Excellent,:: Jazz said, and left the line open so Whiplash could get the best experience possible of the torture of the creature that had taken, hurt, and killed one of his own pack. 

"You remember what you and Flatline liked to do?" Jazz murmured against Lockpick's audial, not even sure the mech could hear him anymore, but he got a flicker of the optics as the focus moved over to him with difficulty. "When you filled my love with chemicals that made him overload from it all?"

Lockpick whimpered and nodded.

"Let's do an experiment," Jazz said, and reached down, ripping away the valve cover and sinking the claws of one hand into the almost completely unused equipment, easily slicing right through delicate, sensitive platelets, while the other gripped the spike, making Lockpick scream, optics flaring white hot with agony. Jazz snarled and twisted both hands, then turned the protocols back on, to the joyful shriek of the mech in his hands, and the frame began to seize in overload. 

The moment he felt transfluid spurting out from the torn systems of the spike in his hands, Jazz flipped the protocols off, and the overload fizzled out, unfinished, to a staggering blast of pain and anguish coming from Lockpick's field. He shrieked and sobbed and screamed vile curses through his glitching vocalizer, while Jazz held on and smirked. 

When the mech finished and was hanging limply, shaking, incoherent as he babbled, the smirk widened into a vicious grin. "Let's do that again."

"I liked that," Prowl rumbled with a grin every bit as sadistic as his mate's. Enforcer protocols were shut down, the morals they brought with them gone. Now only Jazz existed, and what pleased Jazz pleased Prowl.

* * *

Almost five orns, eight life-saving medic visits, and more than a dozen spikes later, Jazz was leaning against the wall, downing a cube of energon with Prowl on his knees before him, sucking his spike, to the purring rumbles of his mate's engines. Jazz had an absolute authority and confidence in these rooms, in this realm, that Prowl found intoxicating. The sounds of Lockpick whimpering and cycling through protocol settings from the middle of the room made them both hot, and there was an eager anticipation to this act. 

Cube finished, Jazz rested his hands on Prowl's helm and tilted his own back against the wall, giving a low, pleasured moan. "You realize what you're warming me up for?" he asked.

Prowl shivered with a spike of excitement coursing through him. His field reeled in anticipation and fresh understanding that it was time. It was a singular act that took the least work on Prowl's part to revel in, because the pleasure was so very real. His hand trembled as he unspooled an interface cable and reached it up, silently pleading with his mouth and field for Jazz to plug it in and hand his down. To allow Prowl to feel the unique sensation of a spark guttering around a spike. As much as Prowl was hooked on it, it was Jazz's act. Prowl only ever asked to be allowed to feel it through Jazz.

Jazz clicked the jack into his port and passed his to Prowl, both of them moaning with the surge of energy and sensation going across the lines.

~Please, I want to see and feel you take his spark,~ Prowl trembled, working his glossa into every fold of Jazz's spike. ~It feels so good.~

~Yesss,~ Jazz moaned, hips moving forward, hands tight around Prowl's helm. "Lockpick," he said out loud, catching the whining mech's attention. He grinned, head still back against the wall. "We're almost done with you, mech."

"A-almost?" Lockpick asked, coherent in the middle of a pleasure cycle, almost daring to hope that Jazz truly meant that. 

"Almost," Jazz purred, and lifted himself up, stopping Prowl's movements with just a light brush of his fingers over his love's forehelm. Prowl came easily up to his pedes and moved with Jazz over to their toy, looking down at the simpering, revolting creature who was chattering mindless pleas that grew more and more desperate as the end of the pleasure cycle neared. Jazz looked down at him with clear disdain in his field, not moving. 

The pain cycle hit and Lockpick screamed. " _Please!_ " he sobbed. "So sorry for it please, please kind, pretty Jazz you were so pretty I never meant to!"

Jazz's denta bared with a low growl. "You loved every moment of hurting him, you tormented him, horrified him, took glee in his suffering, you _sick_ , _disgusting_ little _glitch_." He grabbed Lockpick's chin in powerful, clawed hands and yanked his head up and leaned in close, voice low and sultry. "So I'm here to tell you, that last cycle just now of the protocols being on? That was the last time they were _ever_ going to be on, you sickening Pit-vomited abomination." 

"Until you're done?" Lockpick simpered. 

"In your _life_ ," Jazz snarled, slicing through protoform as he squeezed. 

Lockpick stared at him, shock thundering through his field, before the implications of that fully set in and he began screeching awfully, thrashing and gnashing his denta together in a desperate, enraged, futile plea for his life. 

Jazz let him have his moment before grabbing the chains and lowering the creature before them to the proper height and tore apart the weakened chest, revealing a pale green spark, dim and shuddering in its crystal. 

Lockpick moaned, low and anguished, terror lacing its way through his field and working the enraged predator above him into the excited killing frenzy, desperate for a feel of the spark that had once hurt his mate guttering around him. "We'll send our mutual friend along soon," he promised in a low growl, cracked open the crystal within, and pushed in. 

Prowl was the first to moan as the sensation of pure energy enveloped Jazz's spike, a touch like no other. His spike snapped out and pressurized without thinking about it as he rubbed against his mate's back. "Just a few more," Prowl shuddered, moaning at the glorious sensation. "Feels so good."

"I know, babe," Jazz gasped, holding there, hips flush to the ruined chest he held in his claws. There was a steady screeching in the background, the panicked shrieks of a creature falling into its last, agonized moments of life, surrounded by the ecstasy of his killers. " _Frag_ , love doin' this with you," he moaned, and rocked his hips once, twice, the spark flaring and swirling around him, desperately attacking the invading force, and on the third push, Jazz crushed the crystal in his claws and overloaded into the center of the spark. 

The sparking light swirled down into a rapid gutter that ended in the wash of energy, lifeforce, exploding out around them, consuming them together, making them scream in unison. 

A few paces away in the observation room seven agents were in various states of shock and arousal.

"Did he...." 

"...Yep. Never seen snuff like that."

"Wow. I mean, wow. And his _mate_. Why isn't that Enforcer one of us?"

"Maybe he is."

"It's personal, this one. That mess of scrap hurt Pantera bad. But what a show."

"How many more are they after?"

"Four they know designations of, at least two others they don't. Onslaught, Brawl, Flatline and a mech that is only referred to as 'him.' Pretty sure it's Vortex given who all is involved."

"Yeah, with the other four it's got to be Vortex."

"Sick fragger."

"I doubt we know the half of it. You know teachers are almost always worse than their students."

A quiet fell over the group at that thought, knowing what they did of Jazz and what that had to mean of Vortex, and what they had just witnessed suddenly became that much more horrific. 


	38. Tension Rising

It was night in Praxus, one of the calmer ones when they could all be together, something that was growing ever rarer by the vorn as crime rates rose and the number of mecha willing to be Enforcers lowered steadily. Praxus was more insulated than the majority of the planet, with a strong sense of unifying culture and connection with their citizens, but it was even happening in their city, and SWAT rarely saw an uneventful orn go by anymore.

But their planning hadn't stopped. No matter what was happening to the world around them, the determination to find and destroy the mech who prevented them from bonding had remained a top priority, and after centuries of preparation, everything felt close to ready.

Jazz joined his lovers on their balcony where they were looking out over the city lights, leaning against the rail next to them, greeting with a rumbling purr that was returned by both. They came out here to talk on quiet nights, comforted by the city below, the darkness, and the solitude. 

"How do we stand?" Radiance asked them, voice low. They had hoped to be ready by this metacycle and Jazz was getting final reports from Kaon while Prowl ran his final, decaorn-long, intensive analysis. 

"Steady from what I can tell," Jazz murmured. "Nothing's changed over there, even with the rest of the city rotting like it is."

"We have the finances to move, but I am concerned," Prowl said quietly, his optics not really looking at the view. "The war that is coming will spread to all of Cybertron. It is already too late for the Senate to change its path, even if it was inclined to. It is a very bad time to expend our resources."

His lovers gave him a startled look. 

"Is war so certain?" Radiance asked, just as soft. "The Prime is working with that faction to ensure it never even happens."

"The Prime has no power to do what must be done," Prowl's tone was resigned. "Cybertron has too many mecha. Even under optimal energon production conditions a safe population level is at most two thirds of what it is now. Half would be better. There is no way to provide what the masses need anymore. It has been building for half the Golden Age. It is coming within the century. Likely much sooner now that they have a strong leader."

"So we move now," Jazz said, almost insisted, and there was more than a little pleading in the subglyphs. "While we still can, while the planet is still stable."

Prowl shivered very faintly, distressed by the two painful pulls of his core coding. One, to protect Jazz that said to hold off until the war was over. The other to give Jazz anything he wanted that screamed to comply.

Radiance watched carefully as Prowl froze there, teeking and realizing the coding battle that was starting in his lover, one with severe enough implications and emotions attached that the likelihood of a crash was high, and growing with every nanoklik that passed. Prowl had been deep in analysis, barely moving except when prompted to stretch, for the last five orns, and this had been his conclusion. "You think it's safest to save our resources. Why?" he asked softly. 

That seemed to break through the frozen physical functions and there was a flicker first in Prowl's field, then his optics, and then a slow cycling of his vents as the field calmed, drawn back into the steady ground that reasoning gave him. 

"There is not enough fuel to sustain the planet," he said. "Though that isn't widely realized yet. Energon prices have been increasing gradually for centuries, almost undetectable, and the pattern is beginning to show all the hallmarks of being exponential. The most likely projection..." He cocked his head, pulling up calculations, figures, and conclusions. "Prices are currently going up by five percent per vorn, and in a decade it will become ten, then twenty, and follow that pattern until it is doubling every vorn. Eventually, the value of a credit will fail entirely, and energon will become the currency, but no one will want to part with it. We need to stockpile, and waste as little as possible to weather this out. We simply..." He paused, and reached out to brush his thumb over Jazz's face, spark breaking at the devastated look he saw there. "It would be unwise to expend any amount of unnecessary energon, and to take him down, we will need fuel." 

Jazz just nodded and turned away to look out over the city. "So we wait again."

"Yes," Prowl said softly, relieved and very grateful for Radiance's interference even as he pressed against Jazz's back and held him. "We wait. We ensure our survival. We ensure that when the destruction settles, we are among those ready to move forward and rebuild."

He got another nod before Jazz leaned back against him, head tilting to rest on his shoulder. His hands covered Prowl's and squeezed as almost imperceptible emotions flickered beneath the calm surface of his field, anger, love, grief.

"You can let go," Radiance murmured next to them, reaching over to turn Jazz's face towards him. "We're here, it's okay." 

Jazz stared at him for a long moment before he shuddered, brought his arms up to cross over his chest, then lifted his hands to cover his face, slumping against Prowl, who lowered him carefully to the ground.

Radiance moved around in front of him as they wrapped their arms around their youngest mate, holding silently, not even flinching when he threw his head back and _screamed_ all the wild rage and longing in his spark into the night.

* * *

When the economy collapsed out from beneath Cybertron seemingly overnight, as credits were rapidly downloaded from accounts into sticks and it hit the newsfeeds that energon production couldn't sustain the current population for even another decade, Prowl and his triad were among the very few who weren't even surprised.

Praxus was insulated from the worst of the effects, with its own healthy economy, a large middle class, and inhabitants who were drawn, through coding alone, to look after each other. A few of the other city-states, Vos among them, the Seekers just as ready to help their own kind out as Praxians, were faring okay, but the rest of the planet seemed like it was crumbling away within metacycles as mecha did whatever they had to for energon. 

They were cuddled together on a sofa watching newsfeeds, one of the rare nights they could be all together anymore, one small candy for each. The equivalent amount of fuel for each had been taken from their ornly cubes so they could have them without wasting any energy. 

"Mortar was telling me that Enforcers in other cities are just walking away and joining the rioters," Radiance murmured, watching the images of energon riots from dozens of cities. "No one left to keep order in some of them, those that do tend to wind up dead."

"This is only the beginning," Prowl's harmonics were sad but resigned. "It won't stop until the population has been decimated to the point that the few energon production facilities left after the riots can sustain the entire population. Eventually Praxus will have to field an army to keep non-residents out by deactivating any without the ID to enter. I do not believe the city is prepared for such an action."

"It isn't," Radiance said, shaking his head. He shuddered faintly at the thought. 

"Was listening in on some analysts talking at work," Jazz said from the other side of Prowl, leaning against his mate. "If Praxus could stay completely self-contained, most of the population could be supported, but there would have to be even distribution of resources. No more classes, not until everything is stable again, and even then it's a tricky thing." 

"I believe convincing the average Praxian, even the average Enforcer, to shoot to kill anyone who isn't a resident is going to be more difficult than convincing the nobles and oligarchs to give up their extras," Prowl murmured. "The key to any plan that has a hope of succeeding is the self-contained part, which is a politically safe way of saying to secede from the empire."

They were quiet for a klik, watching reports of city after city pleading for Imperial aid. 

"Think Kaon will formally secede?" Radiance asked. "Saw a report that the representatives all withdrew from the Senate unannounced and they've all but publicly denounced the Prime. I wouldn't be surprised."

"Not until the Empire is so busy with rioters that they don't have enough military to do anything about the announcement. They will, eventually," Prowl said very quietly. They were, after all, discussing acts of treason on a grand scale. "I do not believe this Prime or Senate are prepared to penalize them in a way to stop it."

Jazz suddenly sat up straight as the image changed again, showing yet another noble quarter in yet another city being raided for energon by desperate, starving guttersmecha. "That's--"

"...Central City," Radiance realized, and looked at his lovers, who were both staring at the screen. It was showing a destroyed House, the first of many torn down in symbolic protest of the nobility's wealth. "Is that...?" 

Jazz nodded, frowning. "Weird to...see it again."

Prowl's vents hitched with a ripple of _pain-loss-no-denial- **shutdown** -pain-denial_ before he shuddered and pressed against Radiance, silent except for the trembling of his armor.

Radiance pressed back, arms going around him, flaring as much comfort as he could. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, and turned Prowl's head towards him. "Let's stop watching the newsfeeds for a while, okay?"

A weak nodded was all Prowl could manage of a reply as grief welled up again, mingled with intense failure.

"You couldn't have done anything to help them," Jazz said quietly from the other side as the screen blinked off, and pressed his face against Prowl's neck. "You would just be caught in there with everyone else. None of that is your fault." 

"They would have been warned. I saw this coming so long ago." Prowl struggled to make his vocalizer work even as he accepted the comfort of his mates against the emotional storm inside him. He'd never realized how much of his loyalty coding was still linked to his original House. He'd never transferred it to Vortex, and Jazz, while he took up much of it, still wasn't a House.

"The ... Central City report says only nobles were killed, the servant class was warned ahead of time and most got out," Radiance said, wincing a little, not sure if more information would help or hurt, but not seeing any way he could keep that from his mates.

Jazz's field went oddly flat. A small hiccup escaped from Prowl and he calmed significantly. Not entirely, coding was a nasty thing when riled, but those he cared about, his creation, may well have gotten away.

Quietly, carefully, Prowl logged into the seneschal network and began looking up the IDs of the few mecha that mattered to him for whatever reason.

"Finding anything?" Radiance asked, rubbing Prowl's neck.

"My youngest ... I didn't keep up with him," Prowl murmured, his voice warbling with static that matched his unsteady processors as he found the last available reports. "He was...." he flinched at the glyph, just in his own processors. He tightened his grip with a new kind of grief and loss, one rooted in personal humiliation. "He was discharged from service centuries ago. He wasn't there, but the network isn't watching him anymore either."

"'Tera..." Jazz said, rousing enough to nuzzle him. "Primus, I'm so sorry. Do you want to see if we can reach out and look for him? Get him with us in Praxus?" 

"You could?" Prowl looked at his first love, not doubting the offer but still needing to be told it wouldn't get Jazz in trouble and that there was better hope at finding this creation than their youngest pair. "I can't find what he's doing, if he survived. Only that the dismissal was due to gambling." Another hiccupped intake and Radiance nuzzled him. "His designation was Smokescreen. I don't know what he calls himself now. Even if he won't come, doesn't want me, at least knowing what happened..."

"I can ask around, things like a planet database designation search are easy favors. Won't help if he's gone by a different one, though, and gamblers aren't overly honest about designations if they're not of the legal sort." Jazz sighed. "I'll ask."

"Thank you," Prowl kissed him, soft and chaste but full of thanks.

"We have enough to support a fourth if he turns up, right?" Radiance asked. 

Prowl nodded. "I'll make it work. If he's anything like he should have been, he'll be nearly as good as I am at manipulating credits, whatever form it comes in. He might be better. But we are two Praxian Enforcers. He may not want to be watched by us. And he'll know his carrier's designation. It's likely all he knows of me that he likes."

"Mm, hadn't thought of that," Jazz said. "We'll figure that out if he shows up. I can't promise anything, not even a good chance," he told Prowl. "Not with the planet the way it is."

"I know," Prowl rested his helm against Jazz. "He's the only one left. I ... I'd like to know his fate."

Jazz nodded, and Radiance held Prowl tightly. "Berth?" he suggested quietly. "I think I've had enough of the planet for one orn."

Prowl nodded weakly and rose, pressed between his mates, willing to be taken care of tonight.

* * *

With temporary paint covering their official markings, Prowl, Radiance, and Jazz were waiting in the back of a large crowd, and they weren't the only ones sporting fresh paint in the audience. More than a few precinct chiefs had made it quietly clear they would look the other way when an officer wasn't officially on duty so long as he saw a report of some kind on what happened. It was that same quiet statement that intel was more valuable at the moment than action that kept the SWAT units, Radiance's in particular, from worrying about tonight. Many more with fresh paint or quick mods weren't Enforcers but were in positions were they were concerned for their job or rank if they were known to be here.

A glance around and Jazz estimated that a good sixth of the gathering were here to watch rather than any inclination to participate. He wasn't the only ISO agent here--a solid third of the local crew was out, and not one of them was going to be joining the revolt.

Of course, that meant that five-sixths of the gathering were potentially supporters, or at least open to being converted, and that was a frightening prospect all on its own.

Rumors had been spreading throughout the city that the leader of the newly organized rebellious faction based in Kaon was going to be speaking to the public. Suspected of Imperial treason, murder of a Senator and much more but not convicted of any of it, even their attendance at this meeting could bring them under suspicion if they were officially discovered. 

Unofficially, _everyone_ wanted to know what was going to happen. 

::Not sure if this turnout is a good or a bad thing,:: Jazz mused, leaning against the back wall between his mates.

::That it is here is a bad thing,:: Prowl said quietly. ::That it is tiny compared to most of his rallies is comforting.::

Radiance hummed in agreement. ::The city needs to shift its full focus to a long-term, sustainable plan. They're working, but not fast enough for some, apparently.::

::Agreed,:: Jazz and Prowl said in unison, and then the low murmur of conversation from the crowd died down as the large Gladiator build walked out onto the raised, makeshift stage, followed by nine others. A Seeker trine and a host drew most of the room's attention, but Jazz and Prowl, followed shortly by Radiance, locked onto a large, dark, heavily armored rotor with the financial backers.

Prowl's vents caught and optics spiraled wide, though he managed not to tremble in that first moment. Jazz reached blindly for Prowl's arm, clutching his mate painfully tight and otherwise frozen as they both stared at a face they had never expected to see so close to their home, in their city, in a place that had always been _safe_.

They got shifting, sideways looks at the shock that rolled into their fields, looks that Radiance greeted with a friendly smile that seemed to shift attention back forward to the much more interesting scene on the stage. 

Radiance was the only one who saw the host leaving the stage to enter the crowd, and one look at his frozen mates, and he knew they needed to calm down or get out. ::He can't see you,:: he said firmly. ::He isn't looking, you're safe!:: 

"Citizens of the beautiful city of Praxus," the Gladiator began, his voice warm, rolling, comforting. "It is my true honor to speak with you today about matters of grave importance, matters that the Empire, and the Prime, would rather you and I not talk about, much less with each other, but we will not let that silence us!" 

It continued on, and the host was starting to make a slow circle around the room. 

::I could make that shot,:: Jazz snarled suddenly, viciously, as shock turned to a seething, deadly hatred even as his field pulled in tight to his armor. 

::We ... we would have to start over,:: Prowl was snapped to reality by the statement, even as he recalled his orders to Jazz so long ago that if he had the shot to take it and worry about escape and rebuilding later. ::I like Praxus.::

Radiance grabbed Jazz's shoulder and forcefully shook him, disrupting the targeting systems that he knew had activated, just from the way his mate's optics were focusing. ::Take the shot now and we won't get away!:: he said when engines growled at him. ::There are too many witnesses, and those Seekers will be on you before we're out the door! _You_ will be in too much pain to move, much less run or fight!:: He looked up, the host was getting closer, and there was still no reduction to Prowl's underlying anxiety or Jazz's anger. ::We are leaving,:: he commanded. :: _Now_.:: 

_That_ was direct enough to shake Jazz, and with Radiance behind them, they made their hasty way to the exit, the dark mech murmuring apologies for the disturbance as they moved along the back of the crowd, but without seeming to have caught the host's attention. 

Behind all of it, the deep, rumbling voice was carrying over everything, reaching out even past the walls. "...in a world where the Prime and his Senate have their own private army, one that could be turned against citizens at a moment's notice!" the Gladiator called, to angry cheers. "And all we have is the word of a corrupt Prime who has let Cybertron fall to ruin while the Senate sits overcharged in their palaces that it will never be turned against the masses! I will tell you, I have seen Vos, and I have seen Praxus, and your people share a common history, one rooted in community, freedom, equality! You care for each other, support those in need, and it is time we showed that way of life to the rest of the suffering planet! Solutions must be devised, and everyone will need to make sacrifices, but together, we can make the changes to replace the Empire with leadership that does not seek wealth, or power, but places strength, fairness, and equality above all else! This is my message to you!" 

Even more cheers followed them out onto the street and Radiance didn't stop pushing until he couldn't hear them anymore, turning them down the seclusion of a dark alley. 

Prowl was shaking. Radiance immediately wrapped arms around him and pulled him tight while Jazz paced anxiously next to them. 

::We know where he is, we could ambush him as they leave, fire from that next warehouse,:: Jazz said, field rippling with stress. 

::I can take the shot,:: Prowl said quietly but firmly. ::You can be far enough away that you won't be spotted when the bond breaks.:: He looked at Radiance. ::You can be with him when it happens, help him fight it until we can get to one of his medics. I will arrive as quickly as possible.::

::And if you're spotted?:: Radiance argued as Jazz stopped pacing to look at them. ::If they figure out the angle it came from?::

Prowl rested their forehelms together, his field soft against Radiance. "Then I escape, or I do not, so long as _he_ is gone. They'll never trace me to you."

"I don't like this!" Radiance protested, voice low, as Jazz continued to watch, head cocked and frowning. "Success is not worth losing you!"

"No, it's not," Jazz agreed. "But tactically, you would have absolute advantage, and the chance of them tracing the shot is low if you're using the right kind of weapon. This one," he pulled a small, hand-held firearm from his subspace, one that made Radiance's armor ripple and squeeze in reflexively around his protoform. "Use this one. I will get home, you two stay together." 

"No. I can never be traced, even if caught," Prowl hissed even as he accepted the pistol. "He has no such protection."

"You're dead if you're caught, it won't matter!" Jazz said. "You're safer as a pair!" 

"I have more stealth training," Radiance agreed.

" _I_ can become part of a wall if need be," Prowl pointed out. "One is always easier to hide than two."

Radiance's engines rumbled with displeasure at both options. "If I stay nearby, I can try to create some kind of disturbance if I see them going after you," he offered. "Without engaging, without endangering myself." He looked between them. "Only as a last resort if he's in trouble."

"Someone needs to be there for him," Prowl's gaze flicked to Jazz. "When it breaks. I won't be caught," Prowl insisted in that way only he could.

"I'll be fine," Jazz hissed, but Radiance cycled his vents out in a resigned huff as his field settled with that decision. 

"You'd better not be caught," Radiance growled to Prowl before looking at Jazz. "We'll wait at home." 

Jazz's doorwings lifted in a brief moment of protest, but faced with the absolute agreement between his mates, their own solid stances and determined fields, there was no more argument to make. Wings and field lowered into submission of the decision and he stepped into their arms. "Just don't get caught," he whispered.

"I will be home soon," Prowl whispered, the words a promise as he held both his lovers tightly. "I won't shoot unless I can escape as well."

They nodded, gripped each other as hard as they could, and then parted, two disappearing within moments, while the other walked back the way they had come. As he slipped fully into a shadow, Prowl shifted forms into a Praxian, but one of much lower status with dinged armor and faded paint. His ice blue optics shifted to a dim orange-red and his chevron lost the top third on the left side. It was a distinctive and difficult to repair feature that everyone would focus on as he lost himself among first responders.

Physically ready, he double-checked his intended tactics, the range of his weapon and where he wanted to be when he fired.

Jazz had picked out the neighboring warehouse and he agreed with that choice after looking through the other options. There were second story offices above the large storage facilities, ones with windows facing out in the direction that his target had entered, and would presumably exit. 

He made his way up, settled in, and waited. While the street remained quiet, he settled his processors, focused on his singular task, and prepared himself to escape after murdering a mech.

It wasn't as easy as it would have once been. Enforcer coding backed up by seneschal coding both rebelled. Yet by the time a joor had passed and there was movement below, he was ready. At first there were civilians leaving from the far exit as the Gladiator and his group presumably remained to talk and mingle with those curious in his movement, and then they started to leave as well.

Megatron talked as he walked between two Praxians, both from the mid-level underworld. His telepath behind him, the Seekers beyond nominally protecting the investors. The grounder warrior ... Deadlock ... was in an active snarling match with Vortex, who was facing away from him, completely engaged in the argument and leaving his entire back exposed.

Prowl focused. Leveled his arm, and pulled the trigger once.

The shot hit one of the rotor blades, and the way Vortex spun and shrieked, clawing wildly at his own back, was enough of an indication as to how much the weapon had to _hurt_. Deadlock stared at the rotor and Prowl watched in fascination as the blade began to crumble away where he'd hit, rusty brown starting to spread out, up towards his body. Ahead, the commotion caught the Gladiator's attention and he growled, immediately sprinting back towards the scene, shoving past the mecha who were just watching, and saw what was happening. 

He reached out, grabbed Vortex's shoulder, and then with his other hand tore the entire rotor pack off, flinging it away to the ground where it dissolved away in a matter of a klik. 

By then, the telepath and all three Seekers were looking around, moving in a search pattern through the street.

Prowl paused for a nanoklik and chose to live by not taking a risky, unclear second shot that would guarantee the kill if he hit. He spared a full eight nanokliks to determine the search pattern being used and bolted.

* * *

"Should have stayed," Jazz muttered, pacing anxiously around the edges of their berthroom, edgy and nervous and unwilling to comm their mate for fear of it getting intercepted by the host or potentially distracting Prowl. "Anything?" he asked Radiance, who was sitting on the edge of the berth, watching him.

"There are civilians calling in about a murder attempt in the area. A rotor that suddenly started to rust away," Radiance relayed calmly. He watched his mate pace, ready to hold him but allowing him to move in his tension. "No one saw where the shot came from. No hint of the perp."

Jazz froze mid-step, doorwings hiking high and taut, quivering, before his entire frame sagged. "So he's okay." 

"So far both of them are," Radiance said. "He chose to live for us rather than be caught but finish _him_."

"How long ago did the calls start coming?" Jazz demanded. 

"Two kliks," Radiance said calmly. 

"It should have spread by now," Jazz murmured, staring at the floor. "Why didn't it spread?" 

"Unless it is reported, we'll have to wait for Pantera to tell us," Radiance tried not to shrug. "If the hit location was removed quickly enough, even that thing can be stopped."

Jazz nodded, frowning. "Can't imagine anyone caring enough about that pile of parts to risk touching something like that, even if they _didn't_ know what it was."

"You'd be amazed what loyalty enough credits will bring, especially in the current economy," Radiance sighed and checked the time again.

Five kliks since the first call came in. Prowl should be far enough away to risk comming them. At least a ping that he was all right. "Still no sign of the perp," he told Jazz instead of focusing on all that could go wrong. "First on duty responders are on the scene. Saxo ... does your boss know that you had that thing?"

Jazz shrugged. "He knows I _could_ have it."

Radiance simply nodded his acceptance of that and settled into reporting news that he knew Jazz had the clearance and codes to access himself. It gave them both something to do besides worry. They could focus on the fact that even with a telepath-host, Seekers and plenty of Enforcers now on scene, no one was reporting a clue as to the shooter.

A highly encrypted comm ping caught Radiance off guard at the twenty-klik mark.

::What is it, Charade?::

::Is ... how hard do we want to hunt this one?:: He sounded very uneasy.

::Just don't get in trouble, okay?:: Radiance replied, earning a slight sound of relief from the other end.

::Yes, sir.::

"Who?" Jazz asked when Radiance closed the channel.

"Charade," he chuckled darkly. "Asking how pissed I'll be if they don't catch the shooter. I don't think he likes the vic much."

Jazz purred deeply, that comment getting the first positive reaction out of him since they'd gotten home. He moved over to settle on the berth next to Radiance. "He has good intuition."

Radiance leaned into his lover and settled there. He was still holding him when a ping hit both their comms at the same time. It wasn't a comm request, simply a notice of continued functioning, and in this case feeling safe enough to make the small contact.

"Thank Primus," Jazz sighed as some of the tension in their frames drained away, though a ping was a far cry from holding Prowl in their arms. 

::Boss,:: Charade commed after another ten kliks, sounding uneasy. ::I'm suddenly ... not so sure we don't want to hunt this one.::

::Why?:: Radiance asked, struggling to keep himself professional. ::What changed? More bodies, dead?::

::Nah, it's ... got the chem techs down here looking at what's left of what _did_ get hit--witnesses say the rotor pack got torn off, can't even tell that's what it used to be anymore, 's just a pile--and it's a _nasty_ piece of hardware caused that. Like, I've never even _seen_ one of these nasty.:: Charade sent over a tech file with the schematics of the same tiny pistol that Jazz had armed Prowl with. ::I'm shocked he survived a hit from one of these. Rotor blades had to be made from some strong stuff to slow it down enough for anyone to even get 'em off::

::Do what you need to,:: Radiance said carefully. ::I'll bring you up to speed on Vortex later.::

::All right,:: Charade said. ::We'll get things handled down here until then.::

::Thank you,:: Radiance said, and the line closed. 

"Charade again?" Jazz asked.

"The weapon freaked him out bad," Radiance nodded. 

"...Ah," Jazz said, and gave a rueful grin. "I'd apologize and promise him he doesn't need to worry, but..." 

Radiance tilted his head in understanding right as they both got the ping that the lift was headed to their home. 

They were on their pedes in an instant, rushing downstairs to be at the door as it opened, pulling Prowl into their arms and holding him as tightly as they could, not even stopping to look at him.

"Energon," the familiar voice gasped even as he held them too tightly to move. "Want out of this shape." His grip loosened on Radiance somewhat and he buried his face in Jazz's neck. "So sorry. So sorry, love. I tried. I hit him. Just not close enough."

"Don't even care, you're safe," Jazz said firmly, stroking his helm as Radiance pressed a cube to his lips, moving with him as he tilted his head back automatically, letting his lover control the speed of the intake. The first cube emptied and another one replaced it almost without pause, then again, and again, until the fourth was empty and he was back in his mates' enveloping hold.

"So close," Prowl murmured, feeling stronger and more settled now that he was safe and with a full tank. "We were so close to being free."

"There will be more chances," Jazz said, turning Prowl's face towards him, hands resting on either side. "More chances when we are better prepared, without so many dangers. We _will_ be free of him one orn." 

"The odds were not in our favor," Radiance murmured, nuzzling Prowl. "And now we know that if there were ever to be doubts about this movement, just seeing the company kept should resolve them." 

Jazz shuddered. "Agreed."

"We can work on our various contacts to keep Praxus as far from it as possible." Prowl hesitated, a tickle of something Radiance had said so long ago working its way to his thoughts again, but now with a plan and statistics attached. "Do you ... we ... want to be leaders?"

"I believe we could be," Radiance murmured, pressing a kiss to his love's helm. "I don't ... _desire_ to lead, but I believe we could save Praxus. Militarize the city for defense, work out an energy plan that can last..." He trailed off for a moment, considering what they were capable of against what they would truly want. "If we submit an energy plan alone that will do more good than decades of politicians squabbling, without needing to actually _lead_."

"We know the right channels and contacts," Jazz added, cocking his head and looking at Radiance. "Praxian Ops are just as loyal to the city as the Empire, maybe even more if forced to choose. If Ops fractures in all of this, we'll still have those resources."

"Which you could use in a plan, or even contingencies," Radiance said, looking back at Prowl. "After that we can determine how well it's been received and followed, and discuss actually leadership if the current cast does not live up to expectation."

Jazz nodded. "We don't _want_ to lead," he summarized for Prowl. "But we would rather that than let Praxus fall. We'll submit a plan before the city council first and see if that is enough."

Prowl nodded his acceptance and felt things settle inside him, the question too long ignored given an answer. "I will detail a plan for the energon and we will see how much political pushing will be required to implement it." He shifted to give Jazz a long, soft kiss, then claimed one from Radiance. "Right now, I want to be clean and spend the evening between my mates."

"We can do that," Radiance murmured, touching their helms as the triad took that moment to simply _be_ in each others' presence, safe and whole.

* * *

Whiplash made his way into the interior of the Imperial headquarters in the middle of Iacon, heading for the Prime's private chambers. He hadn't been here in centuries; his orders were given by messenger or by comm, or on the rare occasion, before the Senate, but private audiences with his Prime had become a rarer and rarer thing, something that Whiplash did not like. 

With the planet the way it was, it was almost a relief to be called in. He had more than a few things to say. 

"Whiplash," came the weary greeting as soon as the matte black mech had slipped into the chambers. Sentinel was sitting at his grand desk, halfway through what looked like a bottle of high grade, surrounded by stacks of datapads. 

"Sir," Whiplash greeted with a proper head cant. "I received your summons." 

Sentinel gestured at the seat across from him and Whiplash couldn't stop himself from scanning it with more than a dozen sensors before sitting down and declining the offered high grade. 

"I'll get right to it," Sentinel said, sitting back, fixing Whiplash with a hard look. "You are ordered to shut down Imperial Special Operations." 

Whiplash stared at him for a moment, replaying the words several times before cocking his head slightly, frowning. "You're ... ordering me to make it appear as though ISO is no longer functioning?" 

Sentinel frowned back. "No, I'm ordering you to shut it down. Completely. You have one metacycle." 

If Whiplash had optics, they would have been spiraled completely wide as he just _stared_ at his Prime, mouth dropped open. "Sir--"

"I am cutting off all your resources starting next orn," Sentinel continued. "You will receive no further Imperial aid, and after your metacycle is up, any further acts of the former Imperial Special Operations will be considered inherently treasonous and treated as such to the full extent and force of Imperial law." 

"Sentinel!" Whiplash growled, on his pedes in an instant, slamming his hands on the desk and leaning forward. "What the _frag_ do you think you're doing?" 

"My hands are tied," Sentinel said, shaking his head. "I have a bottoming out economy, a planet on the brink of starvation, Kaon threatening to declare hostile independence and from all indications Vos to follow--"

"And cutting me out helps any of this _how?_ " Whiplash demanded. 

"This Gladiator--Megatron--has been going around implying that the Senate is not trustworthy, and public opinion of the force that ISO represents is declining rapidly. Calls are being made for it to being shut down. I need to make some gestures of good faith." 

"This is a _concession_ to those _lawless_ rebels?!"

"Essentially yes." 

"What in the Pit am I supposed to do with my agents?" Whiplash snarled, no longer concerned about being polite, Prime be damned. "Some of them won't survive outside our world." 

Sentinel regarded him steadily. "Cull them," he said, voice cold. 

"Frag you," Whiplash hissed. 

"As I said, you have one metacycle. Facilities are to be torn down, resources distributed insofar as is possible into the populace, agents rehabilitated or decommissioned. Any prisoners you are holding are to vanish or be released. Further, your personal designation and appearance will be made fully public, and in one and one half metacycles, you will be summoned to Imperial hearings to stand trial for crimes against the citizens of the Empire. Any changes to your appearance will be considered treason."

Whiplash's vents stalled out and he had to take a moment to gather himself before he shook his head in disbelief. "You're sacrificing me. Everything I've done for you, for _Cybertron_ , and you're _sacrificing_ me up on an altar."

Sentinel let out a long gust of air. "I'm sorry it has to be like this, but I have the good of the planet to consider, and we're helpless without the full trust of the citizens. I have to give them something!"

Whiplash couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Don't do _this_ ," he pleaded. "Don't cut my legs out from under me like this, you're going to need us more than ever, this is the _worst_ time to give in! There are other options, let me help you!" 

"I've gone over every option," Sentinel said heavily. "You have one metacycle, and I'd better not hear any whispers about remnants." 

Whiplash fought back the deep growl of his engines. "You won't," he spat. "Oh, believe me when I say _you_ won't be hearing from us _ever_ again."

* * *

Less than two orns after Whiplash left the Prime's chambers for what he suspected was the last time, an unprecedented meeting was set to begin in a remote facility, with officers, officers in training, junior officers, planet coordination staff, and a small number of other key players having flooded there from every city and region. Those that could not be there physically, even with the aid of a high-speed Aerial, where there by holo-comm, projected as a standing group next to the others. 

A story had broken the previous orn about the disbanding of Imperial Special Operations, and Whiplash's image and designation had been broadcast to every newsfeed on Cybertron, with an announcement that he was under investigation for Imperial crimes. 

Every single mecha in the room was steadfastly loyal to their commander, and his call was the only thing that had torn them away from the hunt to find out who had leaked his identity. When Whiplash walked out among them, questions and declarations flew from every angle until he lifted his hand, silencing them in an instant.

"This is by order of the Prime, backed by the Senate, as an attempt to prevent the revolutionary war we all know can no longer be stopped," Whiplash said simply. "The newsfeeds are accurate, so far as they go. We have a great deal of work to do in the next metacycle and none of it will be easy. Imperial Special Operations will be no more. That means that the agents under your charge will have new rules to follow and a new job to do." He regarded his agents evenly. "From the joor of decommissioning on, any who follow me are traitors. Any who follow me will be _earning_ that title."

"More traitors themselves!" came an angry snarl. 

"They expect us to, what, just disappear into society and live our happy little lives?" the officer from Simfur rumbled, to growls of agreement. 

"An' just th'frag are they thinking!" cried another. "Walkin' straight into a trap! Talked into shootin' themselves in th'fuel line!" 

"Agreed," Whiplash said, nodding once. "Which is why we're not going to destroy anything we don't have to. Don't get me wrong, we're making cuts--facilities need to be torn down, every single record erased, clerical and desk workers wiped and set loose, prisoners need to disappear, and the agents who can make it out there _must_ do so, but you will have to stay in touch with them."

"What about those that can't?" another asked, quieter. "Got a few not suited for it."

"If you can find a place, one of the undocumented facilities, for them to work in and enough for them to do, use it. Otherwise there is medical stasis," Whiplash said. "If they don't change their mind before my official execution date, not that I'll be there, then we look seriously at ending the war our way and rebuilding Cybertron into a functional entity." He looked around the room at mecha he'd trained, at those who had trained him. Every one was a mecha he had and would trust his very spark with, and more, he trusted with the sparks under his charge. "We're going to sacrifice our visible presence to protect our core. A key component of that will be to break down into cells, cut most communication lines. We've broken enough terrorist cells to know how to make it work for a few vorns."

"So we've got a little work to do," one chuckled good-naturedly, lightening the mood a little. Whiplash gave him a grateful smile and he grinned back, adding, "Not like that's anything new." 

One of the youngest officers stepped forward. "So you're really going through with this nonsense investigation? What in the Pit are they even going to charge you with? Doing exactly what they told you to do with absolute loyalty your entire life?"

"Much as I wish I was that well covered, the truth is very few direct orders come in at my level," Whiplash explained. "They have millions of judgment calls and choices I've made at every level, from kills to who to investigate to who to train to even what our internal rules are and how we spend what credits they give us. They won't have to look hard to find enough to make me an excellent public scapegoat. Though I doubt they're prepared to have this trial be broadcast in its entirety once I begin to talk." He glanced at the more comm-oriented agents, who grinned back at him. "I can protect everyone, and I will." He paused long enough to make optic contact with every single mecha. "But the cost is taking full responsibility for everything that I was not directly ordered to make happen."

"They want a scapegoat, but have no idea how high the price of this one will be," someone growled.

Rumbles of agreement echoed around the room. Whiplash was their leader. Except for the rare mated ones, he was their final loyalty. 

The head officer of the Iacon facility stepped forward, a commanding femme with the features, frame, and voice of a noble who looked around at all of them. "If there is anyone here who would rather leave than be party to treason, this is your last chance." No one moved, and she smirked, nodding, before growing serious again and looking at Whiplash. "Tell me now why we don't take them out first. The Prime and the Senate have all but declared war on us, why shouldn't we do the same? _Assassinate the Prime_."

Whiplash offered her a smile that spoke of how very close he was to that. "In simplest terms, because the enemy we know is much easier to deal with than the one we don't know. It would not be the first time that the death of a Prime made quick work of ending the war, only the side against the Prime lost. We've survived insane and treasonous leaders before. We will again. We look out for each other, we protect each other, we share what resources we have so everyone has enough. We each have access to privately held fortunes, businesses, debts and blackmail. Use it as you need to, share what you do not. Whether we return to the fold, go Decepticon or become a third faction, I expect it will be decided within the vorn."

Nods of understanding greeted that, and Whiplash set down to the tedious and exacting work of sorting out assignments, communication plans, and the creation of a new network that they could use to locate each other. The work took orns to complete, and when the gathering broke, it was with the knowledge that they might not see their leader for a very long time, which made the line to speak with him one on one before leaving a huge one. 

Jazz waited all the way through it. "Guess I won't be making officer after all," he said, cocking his head and grinning.

"Not yet," Whiplash clasped his shoulder. "You will though. You and that triad of yours are going to survive if anyone does. I'm glad you're in such a good position to survive out there for a while."

Jazz clasped his shoulder in return, gripping tightly. "Three things. One, you know where we are if you need a safe place to crash. Two, talk to Pantera about your finances, he can manage this entire network. Three," his voice dropped low, the grin vanished. "If you take ISO over to these Decepticons, no matter how good their cause sounds, we won't follow you, not to someone who would work with _him_."

"Not even if the price for my allegiance is giving _him_ to you?" Whiplash asked, his field serious.

Engines rumbled deeply as Jazz considered the offer. "It would depend on how aware Megatron was of his tastes," he finally said. "I can't believe a truly honorable spark would willingly work with him, no matter the credits he brought, knowing some of the things he does. I prefer my leaders to have at least _some_ sense of morality." He quirked a grin at his mentor. "Because Primus knows I haven't." 

"I'll find out first," Whiplash promised. "We are strong enough that we don't need to throw in with either side to survive. I will talk to your mate about finances, or at least have the financial processors among us talk to him. It would be a welcome relief not to have things as tight as anticipated. How will you hold up without your work?"

"I've survived worse," Jazz said, smiling wryly, and Whiplash chuckled and nodded before Jazz embraced him tightly, not knowing if or when he'd be seeing this mech again.

* * *

When the first reports of fighting broke out, it sent a stunned ripple across the entire planet, while some let out quietly relieved vents that the tense, nervous waiting was _finally_ over. 

Jazz was at home, both his mates just getting off work, as images and reports from Vos began flooding the newsfeeds. ::Come home,:: he commed them, sitting on the sofa, watching in shock. 

::We're almost there,:: Radiance promised, and in ten kliks, Jazz heard his mates walking in and moments later, they were joining him, and all three huddled together. 

"There's nothing official," Jazz said. "Not yet." Unspoken was that even though the video feeds were glitchy and static-laced, looking through smoke and shrapnel, those fighting the Vosians were clearly Imperial troops, who had occupied Vos less than a decaorn previously under the pretense of peacekeeping. 

"Seekers are fierce, but they aren't ready for this," Prowl's harmonics held a grief for kin-ties he had learned to care about within his current home. 

"Praxus won't accept this," Radiance murmured, shocked to his very core. "They're _kin_. Where we came from."

Jazz shook his head. "What can Praxus do, though? Vos has confirmed ties with Kaon, and if Praxus steps in or even speaks out ... the city gets pulled in." 

"But they're _kin!_ " Radiance struggled to explain something he simply _knew_. "The empire declared war on our _kin_ , is slaughtering them. It's a declaration of war on us too."

"We don't even know how this started," Jazz said. "Praxus and Vos have no official alliance, stepping in would violate neutrality, we don't have the resources for that."

"Would that stop you from protecting one of us?" Prowl asked with rising distress, though it wasn't nearly as strong as Radiance's. Still, he turned the feed off and pulled Radiance tightly against him. "The war has begun. It won't end until the population has been decimated enough for Cybertron to easily support it."

"No, _no_ it wouldn't stop me from protecting one of you," Jazz said, looking at them with some shock. "Vos chose to ally itself with Kaon, Praxus _didn't_. Where exactly in your energy plan did you set aside the resources to assist a second population larger than our own, much less defend it with a military we don't have? Our survival depends on isolation, standing with Vos _and Kaon_ would risk that."

Prowl whispered soothing nothings to Radiance before he reached out to draw Jazz just as close. "If we don't respond to the slaughter of our kin, they will be well within their rights to declare war on us for abandoning them. Praxus is involved whether it will admit it or not. I had hoped ... so long as Vos itself was not attacked, Praxus could legitimately remain neutral. Now, we are going to the enemy of at least one, if not both."

Jazz shivered and leaned against them, nuzzling Radiance anxiously, only relaxing once his darker mate nuzzled back. 

"There is no good answer," Radiance said quietly. 

"No," Jazz sighed, their tightly pressed frames vibrating with tense energy and stress. 

Just joors later, the fighting in Vos having only escalated, Kaon declared its hostile independence from the Empire and joined the Vosians in their attempt to push the Imperial troops back from their city. In response, the Senate declared war against the treasonous rebel state of Kaon, and any who stood with them.

No one in Praxus recharged well that night, and in one household in particular, three mecha were preparing for the worst.


	39. The Fall of Praxus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the title. You have been warned.

Radiance booted feeling warm and content between the frames of his mates who were draped over him, still snuggled tightly, fields meshed and relaxed together. He purred deep in his chassis, raising his arms up and stretching. "Good morning, my loves," he murmured as they began to boot from the movement. 

The way of life in Praxus had changed over the last decade. The city's borders were closed to new residents, everyone wore a visible tag of citizenship, and anyone found without was exiled. Creations had to be approved on an individual basis and less than a dozen were allowed every vorn. Creation without a permit was grounds for exile. Energon was rationed for every citizen and could no longer be purchased, not even by the nobility. High grade and other confections were no longer processed. Those who had been put out of business were reimbursed by the government and retrained for positions that were solid and of a similar income. The city and its economy had become self-contained, separated completely from the rest of the planet. Prisoners were immediately deported, not seen as worth the energon they would consume. Large scale theft of energon served as grounds for immediate exile and on one notable occasion, execution.

Praxus was, essentially, isolated. Neutral in the war, it neither supported nor was supported by the Imperial government or the growing faction under Megatron's leadership. The former city of Vos had been destroyed and all its survivors scattered, with most of them now in Kaon and the largest number after that in Praxus. Simfur had allied itself with Kaon, and the rest of the planet was still Imperial, though largely in name more than spirit.

The former ISO had not taken kindly to the figurative sacrifice of their commander, and more than a few Senators had resigned in shame when information was leaked about their personal activities. It didn't matter that Whiplash had never been taken to his execution. He had to hide from the mecha he had spent his entire existence sacrificing his happiness to protect. More than a few agents went to the Decepticon ranks, though most were still waiting for their leader to give the order on what side, if any, to support or destroy.

The new, younger Senate was trying to piece together the remnants of a crumbling society, but beneath the leadership of an old, conservative Prime unwilling to make the radical decisions needed to save any part of their world, little of use had been accomplished. 

But the orn to orn life in Praxus, overall, was anything but unpleasant and had honestly not changed much for working class mecha like Radiance's triad. Jazz nuzzled against his neck, Prowl's hand stroked up his side, and Radiance hummed.

"You both have a little time before work," Jazz purred. The centuries had not tempered his interfacing drive.

"You are insatiable," Radiance rumbled, lifting himself up and rolling, pushing Jazz onto his back. 

"He'll always be insatiable," Prowl chuckled, snuggling up next to them, purring as they kissed before Radiance turned to claim an equally heated kiss from Prowl. 

"You're next," he purred deeply, in a voice that always managed to leave his mate shivering and eager, especially with a promise like that being offered. 

The soft moans of lazy morning interfacing and keening cries filled their home but all too soon the Enforcers had to clean up for work, leaving their mate purring on the berth. 

Radiance chuckled and leaned in to kiss him. "Lazy," he teased. 

"Lazy, please," Jazz said, nipping at him. "You should see the acrobatics I'm learning." 

"Why don't you give us a show when we get home?" Radiance purred, and Jazz hummed in promise and anticipation before drawing Prowl down into a deep kiss before they left and he curled back up on the berth, already planning.

* * *

Radiance heard it first, from where he was stationed on the border monitoring the incoming and outgoing traffic, running deep scans and checks on everyone that wanted in, issuing temporary passes that sent out location signals if they expired within city limits, and scanning the subspace of everyone leaving. He was in the middle of having to explain to a visitor that Praxus no longer accepted new citizenship requests when the dull roar filled the air, quiet enough at first that it was dismissed, before it grew louder and louder, until everyone was looking up into the sky, which looked black in the distance. 

Black with glints of light, a metallic cloud heading straight for Praxus, and distantly visible, beneath it, was a dark wall on the ground, growing. 

"In!" Radiance shouted, and everyone in the vicinity rushed through the gate as it began to close. He commed the alert channel that would go straight to the head of city defense with coordinates and the live video codes from the station. "Head to the center of the city, don't stop for anything!" he ordered the civilians before linking in with his crew and giving them the same instructions, only to be greeted with laughter that he thought they were going to listen to an order like that and not stay near the outer wall to help evacuate and defend. Radiance shook his head, watching the approaching Seekers, making rapid calculations of speed and distance. ::Where are you?:: he commed Pantera.

::Three blocks from the gate,:: came the reply as a glance that way showed the Enforcer's alt mode moving against traffic.

::Get your afts to the old base, deep as you can!:: Jazz broke in on a private, secured channel in a near panic. ::The city center won't stand to that!::

"Slag," Radiance hissed, looking at Prowl, who wasn't changing his course, and then back out past the walls. ::And where are you?::

::Home--grabbing weapons. You'll get to the base before me.::

::We have to--:: Radiance started to answer, when the shriek of a missile tore the air above him. He turned to track its course and had just an instant to see it slam into the side of the nearest tall building, the explosion that followed throwing him onto his back. Another missile followed, then another, each one sending a building crumbling to the ground. 

:: _Get out!_ :: Prowl and Radiance screamed to their mate together. 

Radiance started running inward, grabbing Prowl as he transformed. "Residential district, that way, and _why_ haven't the alarms started going yet?" he snarled, sending that exact demand along as they began racing towards the homes, shouting at everyone they saw to head inwards. The alarms began to sound and masses flooded the streets. 

::I'm down, tell me you're getting to the base!:: Jazz said. 

::Working on it.:: Prowl's voice had gone calm. Over more communal channels Jazz could hear him giving orders as a mech many grades above his station, and not a single voice called him on it. Even the officers that should have put him in his place followed or passed along the comms, adding their authority to his, directions for civilians, placement of defenses, orders to vacate buildings and head underground if possible.

::Then I'm coming to you,:: Jazz said. 

::No, _you_ get underground,:: Radiance said as he directed the chaotic flow of mecha as best he could. From the sound of it, the ground troops were almost on top of them, the Seekers were roaring overhead, shooting a rain of weaponsfire as they went. He ducked, felt a shot graze his shoulder, and moved out as soon as it stopped, running up the street with Prowl. 

::Give us one less thing to worry about, please,:: Prowl insisted. ::Chaotic enough already.::

::You know, it would be less chaotic in the base,:: Jazz said sarcastically, making Radiance's mouth quirk up in a smile even as he ducked into the entrance of an abandoned bar, the strongest blaster he had armed and in his hand. Prowl was across the street from him in another entrance, a deeper one that had at least five mecha huddled in it. Prowl crouched in front of them, arm out, holding them there silently. He and Radiance peered carefully down the way, nodded once to each other as the ground troops came into sight. They ducked back, pressing as far out of sight as possible, each of them aiming forward in the street so as to hit the invaders in the back. 

The roar of engines was almost painful and completely drowned out their blasters, each shot striking armor in the giant mass, some doing damage, others hitting war-grade plating that withstood even what they were armed with. Shouts and roars filled the air as the wave struck the first real line of defense one block up from them and without even thinking about it, Radiance jumped from his shelter and into the fray. 

These mecha were trying to harm his _home._ He wasn't going to stand by. Across comm lines he could hear his team doing the same, and through the chaos, saw Prowl grappling with a grounder almost twice his size. 

But Praxus's defense, while sturdy, was still new and hadn't been prepared for anything like _this_. The attackers kept coming and coming, barreling for the center of the city to take out the civilian shelters. The wave kept pushing forward, slaughtering most who stood in their way, and the last thing Radiance heard was the _clang_ on the back of his helm before he dropped. 

When he booted, it was to the feeling of someone immediately starting to pull at him. Prowl. He struggled up, aided by his mate, who was pushing him to run. They could hear screams and see smoke deeper into the city, and in the sky, the Seekers were banking for another pass. 

::Making our way to you,:: Radiance told Jazz as they started sprinting towards the old base. The streets around them were empty now, littered with frames and debris. When they were almost to Jazz he tried to reach his creators, just simple pings, only to have them immediately bounce back, undelivered. His step faltered, _shock-grief-pain_ ran through his field, slamming into Prowl. 

Prowl immediately pinged Jazz, then Radiance's creators, and realized what had happened. "Love." He gripped Radiance tightly. "Survive now, grieve later." He gave the only advice he could.

Radiance nodded and picked his step back up, pinging his team next, finding them all online. 

::What was that?:: Jazz asked about the ping, alarmed by the unusual contact. 

::His creators, all gone.:: Prowl explained tersely. ::I have him moving again.::

::First wave looks like it's past,:: Jazz said. ::Went by me, headed inwards, left a lot intact. Just get here before the second one hits.:: 

::We're coming,:: Radiance promised. ::We're not--:: 

He was flung forward, slamming into the ground from the force of the explosion that erupted beneath him, screaming metal tearing through even his plating, an undetonated round designed to take out tank armor shredding the mid-sized grounder. 

The line suddenly cut for Jazz, who immediately tried to reestablish, unsuccessfully. ::Something is blocking his comm,:: he sent to Prowl.

::No,:: Prowl's shocked response was half denial, half answer as he scrambled to his mate and gathered him up, already cataloging the injuries, immediately seeing that there were more than he could repair in time. ::He's--spark guttering, helm slagged. Shrap round.:: He reported on something like autopilot, trained to keep talking and giving a continual sit-rep so those coming knew what was happening, what to be ready for.

Stunned silence over the comm and beneath, failing systems were trying desperately to stabilize a spark that was shining through the shattered crystal, spinning, flickering, hands grabbing for Prowl, vocal systems ruined, visor rising halfway up and sticking there. 

"We will never forget you, Radiance," Prowl whispered to him with a kiss. "You are our third." His vocalizer crackled and hissed but he forced out words that he could no longer believe in but knew his mate did. "Primus will keep you safe, free of pain until we join you. We love you, our Radiance."

 _Pain-denial-fear-love-no!_ flooded through the field, the kiss returned only partially before the sparklight flared out, washing Prowl with what he knew was the last touch he would ever have of that energy and that field, and in the next moment, he was holding a graying frame, already cooler to the touch. 

::Pantera!:: Jazz's voice finally broke through, desperate for a response, not the first time he'd called out. 

::It's ... over.:: Prowl stammered, his will to survive flickering. There was no broken bond, but that didn't lessen the emotional blow of losing the mech that completed him in a way he'd never known was possible, and shaking fingers traced the empty, broken crystal.

::Where are you, are you moving?:: Jazz asked, voice sounding like he was just barely holding himself together. Prowl didn't answer him, the location ping went ignored, all of it lost in the growing realization that Radiance was _gone_. ::Pantera? ... Pantera! ... _Prowl!_ :: Jazz shouted, as loud as he could over the comms, and the single glyph came through laced with static and fear. :: _Where are you!_ ::

His designation was enough to snap Prowl's processors out of their stupor and to heed his own advice. Survive now. Grieve later.

He lowered the empty frame to the ground, stood, pinged his location to his surviving lover and drew the rust blaster he'd never given up. For sixteen vorns he'd carried it, hoping for another shot. Now it and the cold, calculating processor that dominated him when his emotional core went so far haywire that it was shut down completely were turned on the enemy.

Jazz almost sobbed when he saw how close his lovers had gotten, transformed, and raced to Prowl, nearly running into him as he cut around a corner. He shifted back to root mode just in time to grab him in his arms, halting the even, steady march Prowl had been making after the invading forces, shuddering when he felt how _cold_ his field had gone. 

Over Prowl's shoulder, down the street, was the single gray frame and Jazz's hand shot up over his mouth, reality _hitting_. "No," he choked. 

"There is nothing to be done for him anymore," Prowl's voice was low and quiet. He didn't resist Jazz's restraint. "We are alone again."

"The base," Jazz said, gaze frozen. "We--" 

Another explosion _shook_ the ground around them and Jazz ducked, pulling Prowl down as debris came flying their way. It crashed into the street, Jazz shook from his daze, and started pulling Prowl with him. 

Prowl didn't resist, following completely automatically where Jazz led, and they didn't stop until they were in the abandoned ISO facility, six levels down, listening to the missiles slamming into the city above, the sharp scream of tearing metal audible even from here. 

Jazz collapsed in the middle of a hallway, pressing his hand and helm against the wall, moaning, long and low. Prowl was against his back, curling around him, shielding him physically from the holocaust above. It was all he could do. He wasn't capable of emotional support, other than his being there. He hurt too much, but that pain was buried under layers and layers of self-defense coding to keep him from crashing in an endless loop.

Jazz turned as much as he could, clung to Prowl's arm, and his screams echoed through the deserted halls, as Prowl shook in complete silence.

* * *

It was three and a half orns by Jazz's chronometer when he found the strength to nudge Prowl into moving. At some point late in the first orn they'd switched places as Prowl's grief at losing their third fully sank in. The first sob from the normally stoic mech had startled Jazz, but he'd quickly placed it and realized that his mate needed him to be strong. He wasn't sure where he'd found the strength to hold Prowl and whisper that they'd survive, that the pain would lessen, but he had. Prowl had needed him too.

At three orns Jazz knew the worst was over for his love. Though the grieving was far from over, the scars of the loss likely to last the rest of their functioning, Prowl had finally stopped sobbing and keening and the emotional shutdown cycles had spaced out enough that they could get actual recharge. It wasn't good recharge, but it was something.

"Energon?" Prowl asked, or offered. It was difficult to tell the sub-harmonics with his vocalizations as static-heavy as they were.

"Yeah," Jazz whispered, and pulled two cubes automatically, handing one to Prowl. "I have plenty."

They were huddled together against the wall, and hadn't moved in those three and a half orns except to hold each other and sob or scream or keen. 

He stared at the cube, tilting it in his hand, gaze fixed on the liquid, and then an almost hysterical giggle escape his vocalizer. "Grabbed enough for three before I left. More for us."

Prowl's vents gave a hiccup, but he nodded. "How much of the weapons and credit stash did you grab?"

"Everything but the larger blasters and the downstairs caches," Jazz said automatically, a response pulled as factual data and delivered as such, emotionless. He glanced up as a rumble echoed down from the surface. The explosions and ground-shaking missile hits had stopped about an orn previously, but the occasional deep sounds, probably buildings collapsing that hadn't been felled in the initial attack, continued. "He's really--?" Jazz asked suddenly, then cut off abruptly, shook his head, and tried again. "Couldn't have--mistaken, somehow? And maybe--"

"I'm sorry love," Prowl embraced him tightly, the energon forgotten for the moment. "I was holding him when his spark faded."

"Right, yeah," Jazz said, barely reacting, like he couldn't feel Prowl at all. "I um..." He giggled again. "I was practicing, for that show when you both came home. And I decided to wash, washed everything away, the rest of him that was still in me, just," he waved aimlessly with his hand, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "Away."

Prowl simply nodded, recognizing the hysteria for what it was. His singular goal became keeping Jazz close, preferably where they were, until he calmed down enough to be semi-rational again.

He stayed still, just watching, even as Jazz stood, ready to grab him if needed, but instead his mate just paced up and down a short length, quiet giggles growing louder and louder until he was laughing outright, leaning against the wall. "Gone," he managed through the laughter, and tipped the cube, watching it pour out onto the floor. "Gone, just like that, just gone, he's..." The cube emptied, the laughter cut abruptly, and he shuddered, staring at the puddle. He went back to Prowl and sank down next to him, still again. "He's ... gone." Not even phrased as a question as it had been the many other times he'd voiced those two small words.

"Yes. We are alone again," Prowl whispered painfully. He tried not to think about the spilled energon. His surviving mate needed him, not anger or reminders of failing.

Jazz nodded, optics locked on the bright pink shine before he pulled another cube and held it tightly. "We survive," he murmured. 

"We survive, and we _destroy_ them," Prowl growled and picked up his energon. "No Decepticon will live when we're done."

Jazz's engine echoed the growl, deep and dangerous. "We start with _him_ ," he snarled. 

"From top to bottom," Prowl agreed. "Every mecha that supported the cause will fall. I want their camp to be as barren as Praxus."

Jazz shuddered and nodded, leaning against Prowl. "For Radiance," he said, holding his cube out, vocalizer cracking with static on the designation, and before he could drink any of it, started sobbing again. "Radiance," he moaned, huddling in on himself.

Prowl gently extracted the energon and subspaced it until they could drink it and focused on holding and being held by his mate as grief welled up inside them both once more. "For Radiance. For _us_."

The recharge that followed, when they had finally worn themselves down again after sobbing together, was longer and deeper than any of the previous restless cycles had been, nearly half an orn while traumatized processors attempted to cope with the agonizing reality that a _mate_ was gone, the _triad_ was gone. 

When they booted, fuel alerts were starting to flash, frames and energy worn out just from the mental process of handling so much grief without crashing, Prowl's especially, and they drank in silence. 

"How's your coding?" Jazz murmured after a while.

"Strained, but holding," Prowl murmured, his optics dim as energon was routed by priority to processors first. "We'll both have moments of instability for some vorns to come, but the worst is likely over."

"Worst," Jazz whispered, looking at the opposite wall without really seeing it. "I can't imagine anything worse than facing a future without one of you."

"Facing it without either of you," Prowl murmured. "That would be worse."

Jazz nodded and leaned against his mate, smiling wryly. "I wouldn't face such a future."

"I know," Prowl murmured. "I won't leave my frame until the job is done."

Jazz was quiet for a klik, then sighed exaggeratedly. "Well when you put it like that ... I suppose I wouldn't either."

"There's no need for that, love," Prowl kissed him gently. "You deserve the peace deactivation will bring."

"No more than you," Jazz murmured. "I would at least hear _his_ screams before letting go, then let the break take me. You don't ... believe his spark is waiting for us, do you."

"I haven't believed in Primus or that sparks go somewhere in a long time, Jazz." Prowl reminded him softly as he rested their forehelms together. "I don't know if his spark is waiting for yours, but mine won't go there when my time is up."

"If he is waiting, he is waiting for both of us," Jazz said softly, hand pressed to Prowl's face. "If he is not, then at least it will be over for all of us." The first shudders of another sob went through his frame.

Prowl was quietly still for a long time before he reluctantly nodded. "Yes."

They sat in silence for a long time after that, Prowl as still as if he was being held in stasis, Jazz shivering through the agonizing, frame-wracking waves of grief, each one feeling endless until it was suddenly gone, and they grew shorter and shorter before the shivering stopped with a soft, empty sigh. 

"It's been quiet up there for a while," he whispered.

"Yes," Prowl agreed. "We should salvage what we can, see if there are survivors."

Jazz sighed heavily and nodded. "At the very least, some of those blasters I left shouldn't be found by untrained mecha." With effort, he forced himself up, helping Prowl with him, and they began the long, slow, weary walk up to the surface, prepared for anything, because nothing could be worse than what was already behind.

* * *

It had taken them almost three joors to shoot and dig their way out from beneath the abandoned ISO facility, answering Jazz's question as to why no one else had fled inside, when they realized the first layers of debris had likely collapsed over the entrance just kliks after them. 

After that, walking through the city became a surreal exercise in scanning the ruined, smoldering piles for something even remotely familiar while trying not to look too hard at the littering of grayed frames that seemed to be everywhere. An arm here, a leg there, a bent and burnt doorwing with the remnants of courting painting impaled on a shard of jagged metal. 

They were starting to climb over a hill that had formed from wreckage shored up against a building when Jazz stopped and looked down, then pointed. "Look." 

Prowl followed his finger and saw a grayed Praxian, frame slumped against the wall, deactivated Seekers and Kaonites in a semi-circle around him. He'd been backed up and cornered, and from the looks of it, he'd taken plenty with him. "Charade," Prowl said, when recognition clicked. 

Jazz nodded, and kept climbing. 

It took them five joors to travel the distance they once could have driven in a groon, and they knew they were going to have to stop for rest before they even got near their old home, so Prowl had chosen the precinct, with its enforced lower levels more likely to have survived, and to be a safe place from scavengers. They were almost there when they heard voices, and saw movement, and quickly ducked down, watching. 

When the familiar, deep rumble became more audible and the owner walked around the corner, Prowl relaxed.

"Mortar," Prowl greeted before moving, drawing attention while still protected from reflexes that were no doubt still on edge.

Mortar's head jerked up with recognition and he quickly zeroed in on the source, the two that were slowly lifting themselves up from where they'd hidden, and a huge beaming smile split his otherwise weary face. "Primus below," he rumbled, gesturing for them to come down. "You three made it!" As only two stood upright, he hesitated. "Radiance...?" 

Jazz shook his head.

"We have hunting to do," Prowl rumbled darkly, a tone and harmonic that promised very un-Enforcer-like things being in store for the targets.

Mortar's face fell and he was back to looking exhausted and drawn. "Oh," he said, simply, and nodded, and once they had climbed their way down to him, teeked a field that was just too numb and overwhelmed to respond properly. "Been comming everyone in this precinct," Mortar explained. "Yours never went through, I thought..." 

"We sheltered in the old ISO base," Jazz explained. "Deep enough the comms were still blocked." He looked at the pile of rubble that had once been the Enforcer office. 

Mortar heaved a sigh, following his gaze. "Yeah," he said. "But the basement's still good. Bring everyone I find back here," he waved vaguely at the pair of mechlings that was still shivering behind him. "Got almost two dozen with you two now." 

"How are you doing for supplies?" Prowl asked, Enforcer training kicking in to the fore.

"Decently," Mortar said. "Energon isn't too hard to find, you just have to dig a bit. One of the distribution stations wasn't damaged too badly, so once we broke in, we found a good amount. Hope you don't have injuries, haven't got a medic or anything like that. The hospital's leveled, got hit more than once." 

"Outside aid?" Jazz asked.

"I've heard some comm chatter, but it's just a handful of mecha," he shook his helm. "Nothing organized or of a scale to matter much."

"We are not badly damaged physically," Prowl didn't need to hide the fact that emotionally they were as wrung out as Mortar, if not worse. "I have more medical training than most Enforcers," he offered.

"Couple could use it," Mortar sighed. "Come on, I'll show you how to get in." He waved to the mechlings to join them and they latched on close to the large Praxian, huddled together, looking around at everything with huge, shocked optics. 

The "entrance" had been dug and blasted away, with a makeshift ladder having been fashioned from piping jammed horizontally through the hole that then dropped down into a stairwell, and from there, the sturdy build of the precinct had kept everything lower intact. 

"We're just sort of using the SWAT bullpen to gather," Mortar explained apologetically as they made their way down. "It's the biggest open space down here. But mecha have been picking closets and offices as their own space. Dragged the berths in from all over, there's a couple extra still but not really big enough for two. You could push a few together." 

Prowl nodded. "We'll manage," he promised, to tell his boss that he didn't need to worry about them.

"We've recharged on worse," Jazz said softly as they entered the SWAT headquarters. 

"Here we are," Mortar said, forcing a cheerful note into his voice for the mechlings. "Everyone, this is Pantera, Saxo, Weave, and Bluestreak. They'll be staying here too. Pantera knows a bit about repairing, so let him know if you need anything looked at." 

The thirteen other mecha inside greet them warmly, especially the pair of mechlings, offering them places to sit around where they were watching newsfeeds on the screen that Radiance had used for reviewing surveillance with his team. 

"I'm sorry," Mortar said quietly, every part of his frame looking worn out. "I'm going to go lie down, it's been a long orn." 

Jazz scanned the survivors. "This is everyone?" 

"Not everyone, a few just keep to themselves. Especially--" He broke off and shook his head. "Gonna go lie down with Gearshaft. You two know your way around." He walked off, each step slow, careful, and lumbering. 

A femme approached from the group, smiling hesitantly, holding her arm in her hand. "Something lodged in my shoulder, Mortar pulled it out but I still can't move this arm?" she said, sounding hopeful. 

"I'm going to go find an empty room for us," Jazz murmured to Prowl, who nodded and found a place to focus on the repairs.

* * *

It was a full half decaorn before Jazz and Prowl reached their former home, delayed by Prowl's sense of duty and even worse conditions as they reached what had once been the nicer section of the city where they'd lived.

"It's fitting, in a way," Prowl's voice was low and distant as they surveyed the rubble of their home with Radiance, the place where they had been part of a traid. It wasn't really directed at Jazz, but it was too.

Jazz looked at him for a moment before he knelt down and picked through some of the wreckage. By some miracle--or curse--it looked like a missile had hit directly above their level, and the rest of the building had collapsed in on itself from beneath, leaving the wreckage of their home scattered, but near the top. "This is weird," he muttered, pulling out a shard from a statue that had stood in their berthroom and staring at it. 

"How so?" Prowl asked from where he was digging out what he hoped was one of their weapon lockers.

"Feels like I just booted up, right here, and we made love, and everything was how it's supposed to be, like this shouldn't be real," Jazz said. He shook himself and looked around, trying to guess the placement of the berth and making his way over to it and the main cache they'd kept behind where he'd left the larger weapons. "Didn't think that was going to be the last time I'd touch him." He huffed a laugh. "Wouldn't have let go so easily."

"Neither would I," Prowl agreed with a half choked sound. "If I'd had any idea _this_ was coming today I would have knocked him out if that was what it took to keep him safe. But we didn't, and this is real."

Jazz nodded, shuddered, and stopped digging, curling in on himself. "I keep thinking, if I had tried harder, pushed more, you would have gotten to the base sooner, not stopped to help mecha. And then I realize that wouldn't have been the Radiance or the ... the _Prowl_ that I bonded with." He hissed softly, shook his head, and set back into the digging with a focused determination.

"No, he wouldn't be Radiance if he'd looked out for himself first," Prowl held back the pained keens as his hands trembled, trying to work the lock on the safe that had survived the fall. "We're going to get the monsters, every last one of them."

Jazz nodded, looked over, saw the way Prowl's fingers were shaking and rose, going to him and wrapping arms around him, pulling him tight against his chassis before reaching down to cover his hands and still them. "No matter how long it takes."

"Yes," Prowl leaned into the contact. His field gradually settled in the close presence of his mate. " _He_ could not break us. This will not. Megatron will fall. His spark will expire in our berth."

Jazz's engines rumbled with deep, dark desire. "And the Seekers who followed him?"

" _All_ who follow him," Prowl hissed, too angered to care about kin. It was his mate that had fallen. There were no closer ties than that bond.

Jazz nodded once, deeply satisfied with that answer, before they undid the lock together and opened the safe, weapons and ammunition cells jumbled out of their former perfect order, but all intact. "We stay here long enough to help, and then we hunt," he said in a low, steady voice.

"Agreed," Prowl nodded. "It will be a long hunt, one with little income but what we steal. If the large cache survived and we find it, we'll have the equipment we need to do well and travel reasonably light."

"We've gotten through worse," Jazz said and claimed a hard, demanding kiss from his surviving mate before pulling back and putting a finger under his chin, tipping his face up and meeting his optics. "We sorcel, we break any comm links we had from this life. It's just us and prey."

"Agreed." Prowl approved of the plan and turned his full focus on preparing for it.

* * *

"You're sure you have to go?" Mortar rumbled quietly, looking at the pair after their announcement that they'd be leaving Praxus. The sentiment was echoed in the bleak, but ever hopeful optics of the survivors around them. It seemed that no matter how uneasy it made the others to know that they had survived the death of their bondmate, Prowl's skill at repairs was far more important to them. 

"We're sure," Jazz said, fingers laced with Prowl's, holding tightly. "We can't stay here."

"But we like you, we need you, you're _Praxian!_ " one of the mechlings, Bluestreak, rushed towards Prowl to embrace him, every span of him quivering. "You can't leave. We need you."

Prowl froze on contact, staring down at the mechling that had latched onto him with a mixture of confusion and worry. Jazz revved his engine in a deep, sharp growl, doorwings lifting into an aggressive stance as he shifted to face the mechling directly. 

To his credit, Bluestreak squeaked, trembled, but just clung tighter to Prowl, facing the larger, more dangerous mech without backing down. "Y-you're not Praxian, not really, I heard your doorwings are cosmetic and you aren't even from here so maybe you don't understand what it's like but we stay together we have to!"

Jazz looked at him for another moment, then his expression softened and his doorwings lowered back down and he offered a small, sad smile. "I know what that's like. But I also know that you are all gonna be just fine." He put his hand on Bluestreak's shoulder and squeezed. "Praxians are survivors, and you'll all stay together, but we have some hunting to do." The smile shifted into an almost feral grin. "Gonna find some payback."

That accomplished what direct threat couldn't and Bluestreak skittered away to hide behind Mortar.

"I'll send a message or help if we find anything to send," Prowl promised. A small part of him mused at how smoothly the lie came. Once they were outside the city line, Saxo and Pantera would disappear. Just one more set of designations and frames in an ever-growing list of them. "We have work to do before we can join him."

Mortar just nodded, frame sagged and heavy. Grief had started chipping away at the older mech already, much faster than the rest of them, and the loss of just one more of his mecha, just one more Praxian, was only adding to that weight. "Be safe," was all he said.

"Be strong," Prowl replied, then turned to walk away with Jazz at his side. It would take orns to reach the city line and driving conditions, so leaving their old lives behind was a slow and painful process, but eventually they reached the outskirts, then the wall, and then the city was behind them, and they never looked back.


	40. Sabotage

Praedator and Tenebrae emerged in Kaon some metacycles later, an unremarkable pair of dark, indistinct looking grounders with Praxian-style chevrons on their helms with curious identical etchings in the middle that no one cared enough to ask about. They kept to themselves, appearing to live orn to orn--as buymecha, neighbors assumed from their schedules--and never bothered anybody. Vocally supportive of the Decepticon cause of toppling the tyrannical Empire, they made no friends, and no enemies.

Praedator and Tenebrae didn't turn any heads. Prowl and Jazz, however, cut off many. Jazz frequently posed as a buymech, luring in clients proudly bearing the Decepticon symbol, and then making them disappear completely. Prowl spent his nights hacking and researching, watching the flow of resources around Kaon and its allied cities, planning for their bigger attacks and always looking for the best way to get to either Vortex or Megatron.

This orn had changed things up a bit. They--along with half the city--were attending a widely advertised match in the grandest of the Kaon Gladiator arenas. They'd come for two reasons: there were rumors that Megatron, having sponsored this match as a free gift to the public, might be there, and one of the fighting pairs was listed as The Battlechargers, who were widely rumored to be twins.

Sitting next to each other, hands clasped loosely, fingers entwined, they communicated through a hardline in their wrists, watching with glowing yellow visors as the pairs came out. 

The first pair, the opposition, were called the Bladed Brothers, and they came out on pede-wheels, circling the arena, waving to the cheering crowds. They were in burnished silver and gold, and clasped each other's hands when they met in the center, waiting for the other two. 

The Battlechargers came out running, another pair of grounders in black and white paint that matched exactly, holding heavy-looking swords. They did a lap around before returning to the middle, facing the Bladed Brothers.

The din after the fighting started was ground-shaking, everyone's focus on the match, including the two serious-faced mecha who watched with an unparalleled, intense focus.

~What do you think?~ Jazz asked, frowning. ~I'm not sure they would have gone so far as to call themselves twins in public.~

~No, they never would, but if their owner thought that it would boost sales to pass brothers off as twins, they wouldn't have much choice,~ Prowl replied, watching both sets intently, trying to see if he recognized anything from the younglings he'd last seen.

~They're vicious enough,~ Jazz said dryly, but most of his focus had shifted to the crowds, especially the VIP boxes, scanning for any sighting of Vortex. ~Too heavily upgraded to get a good feel for their original frame type. I think it would take actually speaking with them.~

~I believe I could manage with field contact,~ Prowl suggested. ~It is easier to get in range to teek than it is to speak. For all I can tell from here, either set could be, and it's likely neither. Any sign of Megatron?~

~None,~ Jazz said with a displeased rumble. ~Not even anyone I recognize as close to him. He talks a big show on connecting with the lower classes, but unfortunately it seems to be mostly talk.~

~All the more reason to destroy him. If a miner turned gladiator can't remember what it means to connect with common folk, he's useless.~ Prowl rumbled softly, though it could be taken as a response to the way one of the Battlechargers went down hard under the golden Blade Brother.

His partner was there in the next nanoklik, weapon swinging with deadly intent before the silver one dove in front, raising his arm to take the blow, catching several more hard hits while his partner fought the downed mech, arm blades out and swinging fast enough to blur. The crowd roared, calling out for the kill, but at the last moment the Battlecharger rolled away, pulled back to his pedes by the other.

Jazz hummed as the pairs broke apart, having paused in his response to watch the match for those brief, vicious moments. ~We've been in Kaon for vorns and we've never seen him off a podium, nothing like a good leader,~ he mused. An image of Whiplash flickered through his processor before it was shunted away harshly, an unpleasant reminder of better orns. 

Prowl hummed his agreement, memories of his own flickering up unbidden. ~Do you want to get some personal time with any of them?~

The golden visor brightened with consideration. ~For intel, perhaps, but I worry that might be unusual enough for them to report to their handlers. I bet a night with any of these costs a fortune, besides.~

Prowl checked and winced. ~Far more than can be justified on such a low probability of it being them.~ He regarded the battle evenly as it swung back and forth, the two pairs evenly matched and skilled in drawing it out for the crowds. ~Sneak into their cells, or focus on that weapons plant?~

Jazz thought about it for a moment, then shook his head and sighed. ~I don't like the risks that sneaking into their cells poses when put up against the low chance of success of it being _them_ ,~ he said. ~They're also sure to be well guarded. I think our best bet is to try to get close enough to teek as they're leaving. But I also think that should be your call, ultimately, given what we're potentially risking by not looking into this as deeply as possible.~

Prowl stilled, caught in an internal coding loop as he traced that line of thought and all that went into it. Internally, he cringed when he realized how old the order was, how many times circumstances had changed while it went unchallenged. Across the hardline, he leaned against Jazz's steady presence. ~Love, they are nearly a thousand now, if they've survived. Any duty I had to them is long, long past. I should have edited that priority tree branch when they turned two hundred and fifty.~

~No, you shouldn't have,~ Jazz said firmly, but he sent a soft brush against Prowl's processor. ~You should make that edit whenever you are ready to. Many, many mecha care for their creations throughout their entire--~ He broke off suddenly, when this time, it was Contact, Mira, and Brava that appeared in his memories, and _that_ thought train was deleted entirely before it could lead any further, leaving Jazz disoriented for a moment before he picked back up smoothly. ~Whenever you are ready. If it is now, then it is now.~

~We are not hunting them now,~ Prowl said firmly, though the wavering behind the statement made it far less set than he wanted it to be. ~We have kills to make. Many kills. And a weapons factory to make go away.~

~Yes,~ Jazz rumbled, settling back in his chair, running the fingers of his free hand up and down along Prowl's arm, a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes between them after vorns of such small touches missing almost entirely from their lives. ~ _That_ I will enjoy very much.~

* * *

They were almost caught, twice, while running the wires inside the factory. Jazz looked up and saw a worker getting close to where Prowl was, sent their emergency encrypted ping, waited until he saw his mate's visor flick off and his frame disappear back into the shadows before he did the same, using their audials to listen for when the mech had moved on before continuing. 

Quick gestures across the room, confirmation that they were both safe and believed no one else was in the room, before they moved on, setting the next explosives, placed directly over the underground fuel lines. Prowl had hacked the building's schematics and they were following those lines all the way down, until they reached the front again. 

The secondary explosives were already set outside, placed on a separate timer, one they would trigger manually from their hiding place, already chosen and a safe distance away. 

They met at the front, weaving the wires together, and then brought it out with them as they snuck away. Jazz reset the alarms on the entrance as they left, erased traces of their presence from the system, while Prowl connected in with the trigger timer, which he set for a quarter joor. 

"That does it," Jazz whispered as Prowl stood, grinning at him, hands on his hips. 

"Yes. They'll have a mess on their hands soon," Prowl purred in anticipation of the destruction of both weapons factory and the Decepticon first responders that were sure to arrive shortly afterwards and walk right into the trap. "Let's set up to watch."

Jazz purred in answer, just as eager as his mate, and they walked the short distance to the connecting road, drove off the grounds with their lights dimmed, then merged back into traffic to make for the rooftop where their equipment was waiting. 

"Yeah, I found an awesome view," Jazz said proudly once they had climbed up, looking out over the industrial district. Prowl was kneeling next to him, programming the secondary set.

"It is, and well away from the search grid once they realize what happened," Prowl agreed as he finished and settled next to his mate. He drew Jazz close, an intimacy they had rarely shared since the destruction of their home. Jazz sighed and relaxed against him, the first time in a very, very long while that they'd been this close and still together for more than a glancing moment. Prowl brushed their helms together and they shifted their focus forward, settling in to wait for the first explosion to go off right at shift change when there would be the highest casualty count.

There was very little to indicate the explosions from the outside, or where they were, just a faint, muffled boom that accompanied a tremble in the ground, but moments later, the weapons factory began to shake and crumble. A klik after that, it collapsed in on itself, flames erupting up from the wreckage as secondary explosions shook through the fuel lines, fire spreading in until it reached the main energon holding, and _that_ explosion was a sight to see.

It set off the ammo storage, which leveled what little was left and a solid city block to each side, the wind reaching all the way to their vantage point, though by then it carried no force.

"Beautiful," Prowl rumbled with a distinct hint of arousal in his admiration and pride. "We did well tonight."

"We did," Jazz murmured, fingers running up and down Prowl's arm again. "Won't take long for the first responders." He turned his head to nuzzle against Prowl, an almost nervous thrill going through his field. The nuzzle was drawn into a kiss by Prowl as dark hands slid along Jazz's entirely too generic chassis.

"It won't," Prowl whispered against his lip plates. "We're ready for them too. So many Decepticons will extinguish tonight."

"For Radiance," Jazz whispered back, before the kiss deepened, Jazz covering Prowl's hands with his own, encouraging, accepting, _wanting_. Prowl eagerly responded and moaned into the kiss, elated that his mate was finally able to accept being touched again. It had been so very long, vorns, and he _ached_ to be intimate again.

The wail of sirens filled the air and they reluctantly broke apart to look over, watching the growing number of lights rushing in towards the factory, waiting for them to reach their traps.

"For Radiance," Prowl rumbled, his engine revving in anticipation of both the kills and the mech in his arms. Tonight he would finally hear Jazz's cries of pleasure again. The abstinence had nearly broken him. He'd never thought himself attached to interfacing, but he now understood that he was very addicted to his mate's pleasure. He _needed_ Jazz's pleasure to keep him focused on the reason he kept going.

They waited more than fifteen kliks for the stream of mecha pouring in to slow, then set off the secondary explosions.

Even from where they watched, they could hear the screaming of rending metal, see the colorful shower of sparks when a mech's frame was caught right above an explosive, and five kliks later, after the responders had all rushed to their companions, the third round went off, shaking the entire district. 

On the rooftop, well away from harm and watching with matching smiles and bright yellow visors, Prowl and Jazz rumbled with dark, predatory ecstasy. 

Jazz turned, basking in the light of the chemical fires, and pulled Prowl against him. "So long," he whispered, fingers shaking, a mix of want and excitement finally overcoming the fear and grief that had kept him from his mate's touch. "Too long." 

"Far too long," Prowl moaned, his entire frame trembling at the contact and what it promised. He drew Jazz into another long kiss with one hand while the other slid across heavy armor to find the new places that made his love moan. Jazz moved with him, exploring, kissing, touching every part of his mate that he could reach. His back felt oddly empty without the doorwings there, but that made it easier to run his fingers up and down his back strut, feeling its tension and the subtle curve. 

The new frames helped. Each touch was not linked to a memory; when Jazz kissed his way down Prowl's jaw and to his shoulder, he wasn't following exact paths that he knew Radiance had once taken. He wasn't caressing something that their third wasn't there to touch. Prowl's hands on him didn't immediately feel like only half of what should have been. 

Jazz claimed another deep kiss, one that had them both shivering and gasping by the end. And _Primus_ it felt so good to just hold his lover and kiss him. "Right here?" he whispered, field calm, no hint that he wanted to move. "Out in the open beneath the stars?" 

"Yes," Prowl slid his interface panels open along with his interface port. It was all there, all for Jazz, all aching to be used and shared and entwine with its surviving mate. "Beneath the stars, lit by our efforts, we reclaim a little bit of what kept us going for so long." He pulled Jazz into a fierce kiss and rocked his hips into his mate's frame, eager and wanting as badly as he had that first night Jazz had come to his room.

Jazz shuddered at the scent and the contact, pressing back, wrapping one arm around Prowl's shoulders and resting the other on his waist, lowering him back and settling himself between legs that parted so easily for him. "Love you, Prowl," he murmured into the kiss, bringing one hand up to outline his chevron, the other holding his side, pushing their hips flush. His covers slid away, responding more slowly to the arousal and desire in his mate's field. "Always love you."

"Always," Prowl shivered and pressed into the touch. "My beautiful Jazz," he whispered for the first time in so very, very long. "Please, share with me, fill me, allow me to warm you."

Jazz trembled, nodded, and took Prowl in a kiss that was as much to distract himself from the feeling of his spike nudging out as it was to feel his mate's lips against his. He rocked, slowly, pressing the very tip of his spike into slick, caressing platelets, letting the soft tingles coax the rest of the length out. 

This was harder than touching and exploring. This was well known, parts of them that they had all known and shared together, pieces that had once taken their greatest ecstasy in being _three_ together, were now two, and the emptiness he'd been afraid of felt deeper here. Jazz stilled when he was fully extended, pressing his face against Prowl's neck and shuddering, hips still rocking in slow, short circles, rubbing against his lover's valve.

Under him Prowl shivered and moaned, the _want_ to be filled, to give his mate pleasure, rolled from him in waves. His valve rippled around the emptiness and he held back a whine. He felt the ache of their missing mate, but he felt Jazz's pain far more intensely. "My love. My Jazz." He murmured as he held and stroked his mate's back. His spike rubbed against Jazz's hip as they moved, sending further tingles of long-desired for pleasure into Prowl's frame. "My beautiful mate."

"Yours," Jazz whispered through thick static, and in a slow, smooth push he sank into the warm, slick darkness of his mate's frame, moaning to feel this touch again, the familiar caress and the eager tightness. " _Mine_." He rocked once, pushed back in, and held, shuddering. "O-ours," he all but sobbed, the three glyphs that had once always been spoken together. "Prowl I miss him _so much_."

Prowl shuddered at the mixture of physical pleasure and emotional pain. "It's right to miss him, he is our third. He will always be part of _us_ , even when he is not physically here," he tried to soothe his mate, knowing his beliefs did not lead themselves to such comfort.

Jazz nodded, holding him painfully tight, and drew in slow, deep intakes, cycling them through, focusing on the way the air felt moving through the cooling systems before it was vented out, repeating until he couldn't stand to be still any longer, not with the gentle ripples coming from his mate's, his _love's_ , valve. 

A tortuously slow pull, an intake, and then a shuddering moan as Jazz pressed forward again and then repeated the movement, over and over, and every time, it _hurt._ There was a hollowness here, deep and aching, like part of his spark had been stolen from him and what was left was stretching too far to fill in the missing pieces. 

But there was also _Prowl_. Prowl whom he loved with that same desperation, who was still here, so very real and solid and warm beneath him. Prowl who helped sooth that hurting empty place, something that would never fully heal and never stop hurting, no matter how long he lived, but something that could be eased over time. Each rock hurt just a little less, and even though every time still hurt, might always hurt, it got easier. 

Right now was for them, reclaiming and knowing again, for feeling and creating the pleasure that Radiance had loved so much about them. Jazz shivered, thrust, and moaned deeply. " _I love you,_ " he sang in ancient, sacred glyphs.

Prowl keened in bliss at hearing it, feeling them, knowing the reason for all he had endured was still there, still wanted him and loved him. His embrace tightened and his legs slid around Jazz's. Their movements were limited by it, but the intensity of the closeness was well worth it.

"My beautiful Jazz," Prowl moaned. "My bonded, my love. My everything," he cried out, shuddering in the depth of their love and loss, the pleasure and pain as they renewed their pact to endure and take as much pleasure from their frames as they could.

They moved as one, deep familiarity even with the new frames making every stroke and push and ripple like they'd had these builds their entire lives. Above the chaos and destruction of their own making, rocking to the wail of sirens, lit by the light of the multicolored fires, exposed to the world and oblivious of it all at the same time, they cried out in unison, not even hiding their designations in their passion and unable to find it within themselves to care about any consequences. 

They made love for what felt like forever, and for no time at all, a celebration of their third's life and a promise to each other. When the charge broke over their frames, it came as a crashing, consuming wave that left them screaming into the night, clutching each other through the desperate, almost painful shudders as Jazz spilled into his mate, flooding him with hot, thick charge. "My Prowl," he sobbed, caught in absolute, agonizing bliss.

"My Jazz," came the keening echo, and their ecstasy was witnessed by the stars alone. 

* * *

" _I_ have a present for you," Jazz sing-songed to his mate when he came home early one morning, before the regular traffic began as the city began to prepare for the upcoming orn. He was leading a Seeker by the hand, a flashy blue and gold painted mech with large, obvious Decepticon insignias on his wings. 

"Oh?" Prowl trilled back and came out of the small berthroom to greet his mate and guest. He knew exactly what that set of harmonics meant and felt his pulse quicken at the thought. "Who is this lovely creature?"

"This is Skyshred," Jazz purred, still marked up in his buymech paint. He led the Seeker over and pressed against his chest, nipping at his lower lip and running a leg up along his, hooking around his hip. "He works for Megatron, love, made me hot to think about playing with him." 

Skyshred chuckled. "Well, not _for_ Megatron, exactly," he said, harmonics modest but clearly enjoying the attention that the grounder was lavishing upon him. "I run reports for his inner circle," he bragged, openly looking Prowl up and down. 

"Couldn't even charge someone who does such work," Jazz said, head on the Seeker's cockpit as he grinned at Prowl. "Told him he could come home and we'd have some real fun with him. Do you like that idea?"

"I definitely do," Prowl stepped close and flared his field out, full of honest desire and excitement. His hands slid along the Seeker's arm, teasing the points where arm cannon connected, before moving to his wings. "Handsome, important Decepticon Seeker. He deserves everything we can give him."

Jazz shivered, field already teeking deeply aroused. "I bet you know important secrets," he purred, fingers stroking down the cockpit glass. 

"Many of them," Skyshred said proudly. "But I can't tell you or I'd have to kill you." 

Jazz's visor shone as Prowl continued his careful exploration of the frame. "Maybe just a little one?" he trilled. 

Skyshred reached down to take a firm hold of Jazz's hips, pushing his own forward suggestively. "Wouldn't you prefer a _big_ one?" he rumbled, and when Jazz shivered, grinned widely. "Ever had a Seeker lodged between your legs, little whore?" 

"Had some Praxians in my time," Jazz purred. "Anything like that?" 

"Better," the Seeker said.

"What pleasure should I give, while you spread him wide?" Prowl crooned, rubbing up against the Seeker's side shamelessly, playing every bit the eager lover as his mate.

"Why don't you pleasure yourself while you watch me pounding him, get yourself wet and ready for me after I've knocked him offline," Skyshred rumbled eagerly. "It'll be like nothing you've ever felt." 

Jazz chuckled, the sound different enough from his former coy and impish giggles to catch Skyshred's attention again, and the Seeker had one moment to look at him before Prowl's claws, which had slipped ever so innocently under arousal-loosened plating, sank in, getting an indignant screech from their prey. A nanoklik later, Jazz slammed the heel of his palm forward, directly into the Seeker's face with his full power behind it, knocking him immediately offline.

"It will be like nothing _you_ have ever felt," Prowl grinned dangerously at their offline prey before he stepped over the limp frame and pulled Jazz in for a heated kiss full of desire and approval. "Let's wrap him up and head out to the pit."

* * *

Jazz sat comfortably in Prowl's lap, deep into the badlands surrounding Kaon, fingers playing over his spike cover, the other hand running suggestively up and down Prowl's leg as they watched Skyshred boot from the stasis they'd forced him into for the trip out here. Dull red optics finally came online, confusion, then _rage_ when he looked up and saw the pair and remembered. "What the frag is this?" he snarled, jerking uselessly at the chains Jazz had wrapped him in that were keeping him trapped where he was kneeling. "Some glitched idea of a robbery?"

Prowl chuckled, deep and dark. "We're not robbers. Thieves on occasion, but we're after information that you possess."

"Oh, please," the Seeker snorted, and settled down comfortably, looking completely unimpressed, wings relaxing back down. "This should be rich. Can't wait to see what Megatron does to your sorry afts." 

Jazz smirked. "Ol' Megs? We've got plans for him too, that's where we need your help." He rose smoothly to his pedes, making his opening circle around his prey, settling into the predatory profile that came so easily and naturally to him. It was something that never failed to rev Prowl up _hard_ to watch. "Just wanna know where he is. And anything else you might happen to spill while you're begging me to stop." 

A teek of Jazz's field had Skyshred more unsettled than he had been before and the wings lifted just a fraction, more than enough for the Praxian mecha to read. "Hey, _whore_ ," he spat, "I'll give you one last chance to untie me and get on your hands and knees for me where you belong."

"Oh yes, that is where my lovely Jazz belongs," Prowl's voice was nearly a moan as he uncurled to his pedes. "But it is only before me that he kneels. To you he is Master. Do us both a favor and don't give in easily. It makes me _so_ hot to watch him work."

Skyshred stared at him, still not quite believing what he was seeing and hearing, before his gaze snapped back over to Jazz when he reappeared. "What--" he started, before Jazz leaned in and pressed a finger to his lips. 

"Shh, lovely," Jazz crooned. "Give me a chance to get started first." 

Skyshred shook his hand away. "Jazz," he repeated, starting at them like something had just connected. "Not, Lord Vortex's Jazz?" 

"Oh so he isn't hopeless!" Jazz praised, and settled on the Seeker's lap, draping loose arms around his neck. "Now," he said. "I wanta know where Megatron is, and if you have any goodies on that oligarch, I'll gladly take those too." 

"You are gonna regret this, you filthy little dirtkisser," Skyshred snarled. "I'll rape you so hard you can't think straight." 

Jazz laughed, clear and bright, and faster than the Seeker could follow, there was a blade in his hand. "Wrong answer," he purred, holding the edge to his neck. "Let's try again, mm?"

* * *

Jazz allowed Prowl to drive the pace, to set how fast, hard and deep Jazz's spike sank into the guttering spark under them. Against his back Prowl grunted and panted, taking in and sharing the intense pleasure that even the most hardened of agents had been shocked at when they first learned of it. They never understood what an overload triggered by a guttering spark _felt_ like. A tiny part of each mech knew it was because their social programming was well and truly shattered that they could enjoy this, but they did and they had both stopped questioning their pleasure long ago. Life had too little pleasure not to grab all of it.

Jazz kicked the graying frame away after their overload, panting heavily as he leaned against Prowl, wrapping loose fingers around his spike and stroking lazily, enjoying the small aftershocks. Prowl rumbled and rubbed against his aft, deeply satisfied by the kill. 

"So," Jazz breathed as they sank down to the ground to curl together and recover some of their strength. "Megatron's heading to Iacon. That's too far for us to hunt right now."

"He's in the middle of a large army and most of them Seekers," Prowl nodded, relaxing against his mate. "Even if we could reach it that is no place to try to capture him. If he succeeds in his plan, he will have done much of the work for us. No government, no Prime, he will become far more easy to access." He nuzzled Jazz affectionately. "Though he did leave _him_ behind. I believe it is time we focused there. Even if we cannot catch him yet, we can _torment_ him."

Jazz shivered and purred, reaching down to stroke his lover with slow, steady motions before he rolled over and brought their spikes together in his hand and swirled his thumb around the heads, mixing their transfluid together. "That will be an enjoyable way to pass the time," he hummed. With most of the Decepticon army gone for what they now knew was an attack on Iacon, life had become incredibly dull. 

Prowl's vents hitched and he thrust lightly into Jazz's grip as he pulled his mate in for a hungry kiss. "Yes. We will torment him, pick at his sense of security, his wealth, his support until he is weak enough to capture. I want him so badly, my love. I want him to _know_ what we accomplished."

"That and so much more," Jazz moaned into the kiss, stroking faster, rubbing their lengths together. The cables in his hips tightened and released in short bursts, each cycle making him thrust forward against Prowl. "I want him to know what he might have owned if he hadn't hurt you, see and smell for himself everything he lost." 

"Oh yes," Prowl moaned, reveling in once more having his mate with him and sharing pleasure. "Yes, my love," he shivered as his charge quickly built. "He could have had so much. Not just you, but all my skill. All he had to do was act like a noble and let you fool around when he was sated."

"He would own half of Cybertron by now," Jazz panted, and then a flare of _want_ surged through him so strongly that it made them both shake. He pressed a hard kiss to Prowl's mouth. "I want to taste your spark."

The words were not even finished before Prowl's chest plates unlocked and began to spread. His spark case shifted forward and spiraled open, offering up everything to his mate readily, willingly, eagerly.

Jazz moaned deeply as his own chest opened in automatic answer to that sound of one of his mates offering himself, swirled their glossas together, one hand moving to trace the open cavity, the other remaining wrapped around their spikes. "I will never stop fighting until I've had your spark or mine is no longer in my frame," he murmured, fingers dipping in and brushing over the precious crystal holding the pale blue light that he loved. 

No longer the idealistic, fanciful vows of his youth, promises of being together one orn that they both understood far too well now were just empty words. There was only one certainty: they would never stop trying. There was no other guarantee. 

"Love you, want you, I will never stop fighting to have you or avenge you while I function," Prowl moaned his reply, shuddering as his charge skyrocketed from the touch to his spark chamber.

"And we will both avenge Radiance," Jazz murmured, and began kissing his way down Prowl's jaw and neck, dipping fingers playfully into the spark tendrils as he moved, until he had Prowl on his back and was crouched over him, lips brushing over the crystal. 

Prowl's shuddering moan made his engine purr deeply and he licked his way around the center before dipping his glossa in, swirling it through the energy and life of his lover. Prowl's keen echoed across the empty landscape. Despite the way his frame arched shuddered in pleasure, his chamber never moved, and Jazz bobbed his head lightly, swirling and flicking into the light. 

"Love!" Prowl screamed as the overload crashed into him.

Jazz drank in the energy that surrounded and consumed him for those precious, ecstatic moments, pulling at their spikes until he shuddered and spilled over him, moaning through his own overload, trembling when the wave finally crested and then subsided. He shivered and held there, enjoying the soft, charged brushes of Prowl's spark against his lips, and x-vented carefully into them, brushing back. 

"Ohh, Jazz," Prowl moaned, shuddering at the continued stimulation. "Love you."

"Prowl," Jazz purred, speaking softly against the light. He x-vented once more and then reluctantly sat up after one more nuzzle and settled himself on his side, arm and leg draped over his mate. "So what should we do to him first?"

"I'm going to reestablish my connection to his estate if I can," Prowl grinned up as his armor closed. "He didn't know the systems existed, he may never have found out he needed to change the access codes."

Jazz grinned back, a truly vicious expression. "There are plenty of flight and rotor frames in Kaon, I will see what I can do in the way of leaving a few presents for him." 

Prowl rumbled in approval and Jazz settled down with his head on his mate's chest, slipping easily into recharge against the warm frame.

* * *

Soundwave was not amused even if several of his cassettes were. The Prime was deactivated, the Senate with him, most of Iacon's center was a smoldering pit and the Matrix of Leadership had not been recovered. Soundwave had far more important things to do than to listen to this stupid, paranoid rotor whose only concern was himself. Yet here he was, listening to increasingly outrageous claims that the delusional mech did seem to honestly believe about what had happened while those of _value_ to Megatron were on the campaign.

"--and the morning after _that_ , there were rotor blades melted across my front gate!" Vortex finished, blades lifted and quivering with a mixture of aggravation and anxiety. 

"Don't you have security?" Starscream questioned from where he was standing next to Megatron, who, against Soundwave's advice, had caved to Vortex's whining demands that he have an audience with the entire inner circle. Soundwave was of the opinion that this would only inflate Vortex's sense of self-worth, but his credits were more valuable to Megatron than his humility. That would some orn change and then Soundwave could remove this blight to the race with great satisfaction.

"Of course I have security!" Vortex howled. "The finest that can be bought. What I need is the security specialist that doesn't want my credits." He made a pointed gesture towards Soundwave.

"I think what you _need_ is a less obnoxious demeanor," Starscream said with an obvious roll of his optics and dismissive flick of his wings. "Did you ever stop and think, 'Maybe it's not them, it's me?'"

Vortex snarled at him. 

Starscream sneered back. "Well, there hasn't exactly been a rash of vandalism with rotor parts, seems like a personal problem to me." 

"Starscream," Megatron rumbled, an unspoken order to shut up and behave in his voice. He was watching Vortex intently, chin resting on his hand. "Vortex, do you have any idea who might be behind these acts?"

"Probably the same mecha that's making Decepticons disappear lately," he suggested.

"Probability: 47.2%." Soundwave offered.

Megatron thought that over for a few moments, shifting his gaze from Vortex to Soundwave, but before he could voice what looked like his decision, Starscream was talking again. 

"Why aren't we assuming this is just someone that the rotor fragged off?" he asked, looking at Soundwave. "Primus knows he's done enough to make enemies. Lord Megatron, giving this glitch Soundwave's services would be a waste of his time and _your_ valuable resources." 

"Probability of Starscream's theory: Low," Soundwave said, earning himself a sharp look from the Seeker that he paid no attention to. "Vortex's favored victims: Empties and guttersmecha. Resources: Few. Contacts: Few. Loved ones: Few and poor."

"And whoever is doing this _has_ been going after my resources," Vortex said with a touch of triumph in his voice as it became his turn to sneer at Starscream, who rattled his wings with a soft hiss in return. " _Lord_ Megatron, this is obviously an effort to hurt your cause." 

"Don't pander to me, Vortex," Megatron said. "It is not appreciated. Though you may have a point, and if there is _any_ chance that the perpetrator is the same as the one attacking Decepticons, we must follow through on any leads. Soundwave," he rumbled. "You will perform a thorough security check of his estate and work diligently to catch the mech or mecha behind the vandalism and theft."

"Soundwave: understands and will obey."

* * *

Prowl and Jazz stood outside the front gates of Vortex's estate, staring up at them. The estate security network had gone down easily once they decided to test their luck getting within the grounds on a night that Vortex wasn't at home, and now they were here, together, hand in hand looking back into the place that had been their terror so many centuries ago. 

"We're actually going to step back inside there," Jazz murmured, an almost reckless amusement in his field.

"Yes," Prowl shivered but otherwise didn't move. "Yes, we are. And we're going to do some damage."

Jazz nodded once. Their subspaces were full of weapons and explosives to plant around the estate in locations least likely to hurt any of the current staff. Prowl had been monitoring schedules and the ornly goings on of the former House for the last vorn while they continually sabotaged it from the outside.

"Well," Jazz said, quirking a grin, and Prowl took the signal to unlock the gates. They swung open silently and easily and they stepped inside. "Welcome back." 

Prowl cycled a deep vent and steadied himself. He hadn't expected it to be this disturbing as he stepped inside the setting of all their worst memories and nightmares. Another step and he steadied, emotions put firmly in place. By the fourth step he was ready to go to work like this was nowhere special.

They moved under cover of darkness, heading into the gardens to rig up some of the explosives to destroy the most expensive imports, when Jazz, glancing aside at a pool he had once knelt by, froze, hand going to Prowl's arm to stop him. 

Optics. He'd seen a reflection of optics in the water. 

::We need to go, something's watching,:: he sent through their most encrypted channel.

Prowl made no outward sign except for a calm and calculated retreat, his sensor sweeps and access to the estate's surveillance at full power. ::I can find nothing.:: Yet his harmonics were of concern that he could not, rather than questioning Jazz's assessment.

::It was gone as soon as I turned my head,:: Jazz said, calmly following the same path they'd taken in. ::Low to the ground.:: They were just almost at the gate when the sound of it closing and locking on its own reached them, incredibly loud in the otherwise silence of the grounds. Sensors at full power, they heard something moving through the air above them and looked up in time to see a small, dark shape flying overhead, circling purposefully.

"Climb," Prowl said even as he leapt up and connected to the wall with his hand magnets, trusting his mate to follow.

Jazz moved right next to them, and halfway through a step the ground and the wall started to shake, hard enough that they both stopped and clung or risk being dislodged, when the first shot ricocheted off the metal between their helms, close enough for them to feel the heat. The shaking subsided suddenly and they scrambled up, but the laser fire repeating right over forced them into short bursts of distance while the creature flying overhead circled back around. 

"It's trying to keep us in," Jazz hissed. 

"Intruder: Correct," said a voice from behind them. "Intruders: Will cease attempts to escape."

Prowl shuddered in recognition and felt the panic surge inside him. Of all mecha, they _could not_ be captured by this one. He pulled out of the estate systems and devoted his full processor power to anticipating the next shot and how to get away from it.

Next to him, Jazz pulled a blaster, pushed off the wall, spun, and reattached so he was facing out, set his sights on what he now knew was a flying cassette, aimed, and fired. 

The shot went wide as the creature banked at the last moment and then Jazz's hand was hit directly, forcing the weapon out of his grip and damaging everything below the wrist. "Go!" he yelled to his mate, while the flying cassette's pattern was broken, and he performed a series of flips up the rest of the wall as Prowl scrambled up, almost falling off the top when the shaking started again before they dove off the other side. 

They landed hard and took off running, but the presence overhead stuck with them, and behind, they knew the host was following every move they made.

::Down, out,:: Prowl sent with their best encryption and floored it towards the city limit and empty lands they knew so well beyond.

He didn't need an answer to know Jazz was doing the same, but it seemed like no matter how many turns they took, how fast they went, they couldn't shake the tail, and if they didn't do that, there were going to be Seekers coming down on top of them as soon as the host called them in for backup. 

* * *

Devcon was supposed to be having a quiet night waiting for his current target to get out of the bar and head home, but chatter over the local Con comm network had caught his attention. 

Two suspects fleeing, suspected in a multitude of crimes and murders, Soundwave was in pursuit. Devcon rolled his optics and sat up, scanning the surrounding area. It wasn't too hard to spot Laserbeak as he flew over buildings, making sharp curves and cuts to follow his targets, and Devcon transformed, making his way over. If these two really were behind everything they were suspected of, it would be worth it to take the trouble to get them free and clear. 

Though even better, he realized as he landed on another rooftop in the direction they were headed, if he could get Soundwave, there'd be quite the reward brought in. 

The two dark grounders practically flew by, and to his great satisfaction, a klik later came Soundwave. Devcon took aim, fired, and hit. 

He heard a screech from behind and turned to see Laserbeak banking sharply and heading back towards the injured host. He'd missed the kill shot, and now there were going to be cassettes converging on his location. With a quiet curse, he transformed and took off again, just barely missing hitting the flying cassette on the way out. 

By this point, the city Enforcers were zeroing in on the pair and Devcon flew to them, transforming and landing in front, hands outstretched in a universal peace symbol. He was half surprised to see them screech to a fishtailing halt in front of him and more than half impressed by the twisting acrobatics of the slightly smaller one and the smooth, well trained precision of his partner.

They landed in perfect unison, blasters draw and aimed.

"Talk fast," Prowl growled, the stress evident in his voice.

"I shot Soundwave for you, Seekers are being called in, follow me if you want to live?" Devcon suggested. 

They glanced at each other, then at the sky, looked back, and nodded. 

"Right," Devcon said, grinning. "Let's go." 

He led them back into the deep interior of the city, flying as low to the ground between the buildings as he could, making for the entrance to his current camp. They made it inside just before a trine flew overhead in a search pattern. Devcon set the alarm and lock on the door and turned around, only to find the blasters pointed at him again. "Really, mechs?"

"Habit," Prowl said simply, but his aim didn't waver. "Designation, purpose in rescuing us."

"Devcon, and you looked like you needed it," Devcon said, hand over his spark. "You got the 'Cons all chattering." 

"About what?" Jazz asked. 

"Anyone Soundwave chases gets 'em chattering. And I figure anyone that Soundwave wants caught is someone I want free," he said, shrugging. "Autobot, by the way." 

They gave him an alarmed look at how easily he said that word out loud and he chuckled. "No one's listening, I promise. This part of town isn't rich enough to be interesting."

"I don't suppose the chatter included why he's suddenly hunting us?" Prowl asked cautiously, but he was lowering his weapon.

"Besides breaking into a VIP's estate?" Devcon asked. "Said you're suspected of being behind those 'Con disappearances lately. Which, can I say, if you are, nicely done."

"How do we know you're not with them?" Jazz asked. 

"You don't," Devcon said, heading by them to flop down on a lounge. "But you're free to leave whenever. Bounty hunter, myself, bag the ones with prices attached and that's definitely not you so far as I can tell."

"Autobots have no reason to care about us," Prowl said cautiously. He gave Jazz a look and flicked his fingers, silently asking if his partner agreed with the idea of staying for a while and getting more intel from this mech.

Jazz cocked his head in answer, indication that he was thinking the same thing. "So Devcon," he said, shifting into a chameleon-like mimic of the other mech's field and attitude. "What brings you to Kaon?"

"Pretty much every mech worth hunting is stationed here or comes through often," he said easily and looked over at the pair that were _strong_ by any standard he cared to use. "And it keeps me well away from the more rule-oriented officers."

Jazz shot his mate a grin. "I can understand the lure of that," he said, the teasing subharmonics in his voice adding to Devcon's suspicion that they were more than just work partners. 

"Got designations yourself?" he asked. 

"Praedator and Tenebrae," Jazz said, gesturing first to Prowl and then to himself. "Not Autobots," he added, grinning. 

"What are you doing in Kaon hunting 'Cons if you aren't Autobots?" Devcon asked, bewildered. "Death wish?"

"We lost good friends in Praxus," Prowl rumbled, letting that nightmare stand on its own. "We were there when it went down. We don't have an army, but we've got some skills."

"...Ah," Devcon said, nodding. The fall of Praxus had shaken their entire planet in so many different ways, from the shock of a neutral city being demolished without clear provocation to the disgust of an Empire that refused to step in for aid because of that same neutrality. "Ever think about joining?" 

"What makes the Autobots any more worthy of respect or allegiance than the Empire?" Jazz asked.

"They pay well?" Devcon suggested, grinning, then chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, they're good mecha. Really just trying to help stop Megatron before we look around and realize we don't have a planet anymore." 

"You call them good mecha and yet you work to distance yourself from them," Prowl pointed out dryly. 

"Yeah, well," Devcon shrugged, "Personal quirk. I like my own style. They're starting to regulate more. Wasn't quite as organized when I joined up. But, hey, they kicked the 'Cons out of Iacon, gotta give 'em some credit for that one." 

"How _did_ Iacon go down?" Prowl was suddenly very interested. "The newsfeeds aren't exactly the most reliable around here."

"Oh, that," Devcon said, and stretched out, then looked at them, and realized he was taking up the only piece of furniture in the room. "Oh, er, sorry, never had guests..." He sat up, but it still didn't leave much space. 

Jazz chuckled. "We're fine," he said, and his visor flickered in a wink before he turned to Prowl. "Lap?" he purred.

Prowl chuckled and gave Jazz an indulgent look before sitting on the couch opposite Devcon and settled himself to make a comfortable lap for Jazz. "Iacon?"

Devcon waited until Jazz finished snuggling up to what had to be his lover, and nodded. "Right, Iacon. Gets blasted all to smithereens, Prime dead, Senate dead, end of the world, panic everywhere. The 'Bots used the panic to slip in unnoticed and we used guerrilla tactics to weaken the Cons and government until we could fight back for real. Not many of us but there's some good processors." 

"Is it true they've taken up residency of Iacon and claim to be the government now?" Jazz asked. 

Devcon nodded. "No more Senate, they're operating under strict military rule and hierarchy. But they don't want that to last, it's just until they can get the planet back under control." 

"So who leads, and what do they plan for 'after'?" Prowl asked, honestly listening to what he knew was something of a recruitment effort, even if Devcon wasn't a recruiter.

"Optimus Prime, officially, but--"

Prowl and Jazz sat straight up, yellow visors going bright. 

" _Prime?_ " Jazz said.

"How did we get a new Prime without a Senate?" Prowl scowled. "How is this Prime any different from the last one?"

"And the ones before that?" Jazz added, wearing the same frown. 

"Matrix chose him on its own, at least that's the story," Devcon said. "And he's different because he was just a dockworker before, he was seeking refuge after a Decepticon attack. He means it when he says he wants a new Cybertron, one where everyone can be who they want to be. Get rid of the class system, let everyone start fresh with the same chances."

"It sounds too good for anyone with power to back," Prowl said cautiously. "What is he willing to do, planning to do, with those that object?"

"Why haven't the Decepticons accepted a peace treaty yet?" Jazz added. "That's what Megatron's always saying he wants."

"Fragging 'Con," Devcon said. "When he says he wants everyone to start over with the same chances, he means he wants everyone to start on the same level and let the strongest step all over the weak on their way up. A system governed by strength. Prime wants a system where everyone is supported. It's a bit ... idealized, I'll admit, and he's not actually that good at backing it up with force. That's where his officers come in; he's got a staff that can make hard choices for him. _And_ we can't trust a peace treaty with the 'Cons, they've already proven themselves willing to kill innocents, it's surrender or nothing." 

Jazz grunted. Praxus was enough for that to be believed. He could feel Prowl's agreement with his assessment.

"So Optimus Prime's not willing to simply level the opposition, even though that's the only way?" Prowl summarized.

"Exactly," Devcon said, pointing at him. "He's all about peaceful solution and second chances. Though even _he_ can tell that any kind of treaty with the 'Cons, or any kind of end to this that isn't a clear victory or surrender, won't be good for anyone." 

"Even second chances for Decepticons?" Jazz asked. 

"Even them," Devcon said. "But he's got a way of sort of telling if a spark is good, I've heard. Or if it intends to harm others. But that might just be talk, most of this is filtered through about twenty levels and half a planet before it gets to me, I'm not exactly in Iacon central," he chuckled.

"It's still closer than we are," Prowl said simply. "The filtering is expected. What is done with mecha that he deems unredeemable?"

Devcon sighed. "That, I'm not so sure on. I've heard of processor wipes being done on a few of the POWs, beyond that, I think his officers probably quietly take care of the rest where he won't see. How much he knows is going on is anyone's guess, especially mine." 

"Any idea how he tells?" Jazz asked. 

"Not a clue," Devcon admitted, shaking his head. "Never had it done on me, whatever it is. It's only for ones with a bad past." 

"A bounty hunter without a bad past?" Jazz teased. 

"What can I say," Devcon said with a small smirk. 

Jazz hummed, looking him up and down, before running his fingers questioningly along Prowl's arm.

Prowl nuzzled his love. "Go ahead," he trilled softly.

Devcon gave a questioning look to the pair, not sure what the conversation they'd just had was, until Jazz shifted up and forward, a brushing teek of his field communicating what he wanted more than well enough. Devcon's flight engine rumbled.

"Obviously you have no qualms about accepting payment for your efforts," Jazz said, and as he relaxed back against his mate, his legs fell open a little more. "My question is, do you accept it in forms other than credits?" His hand moved down his frame, settling lightly on the inner juncture of leg and hip. "For helping us out of such a _tight_ spot and all." 

"Pit, I wish _more_ of my payment came like this," Devcon chuckled, moving forward. "You just let me know the next time you need help with something." 

Jazz grinned, and this time, his legs spread very purposefully and his valve cover slid away. When they left here, they would take new frames and Devcon would likely never see them again, but for now, he could add one more spike to his collection.

* * *

"Ow--frag, d'they hafta make these so hard to get into?" Jazz muttered, squeezing through a duct in the ventilation system that dropped them down into a huge room with massive energon storage silos located deep beneath a Decepticon base. He landed in a silent crouch before standing and looking up to his mate, who was still looking down through the small opening.

"If they didn't," Prowl said as he shimmied his way through to join his mate, "we'd have taken it out centuries ago."

Jazz half pounced Prowl from behind once he was on his pedes, purring and biting at his neck. "Always so logical, Prowler," he grinned, then pulled away and stretched with a low, pleasured moan, relieved to finally be out of the cramped conditions they'd spent almost three orns waiting in. "Mm, right, this way, I think," he hummed as they set off between the massive holding tanks for their scouted access point.

"One of us needs to be," Prowl chuckled as he finished unkinking his frame and followed his mate. "Next time, we plan for easier access."

Jazz stopped and looked down at his frame, twisting at little as he ran his hands down his sides to finally rest on his hips. "You callin' me bulky?" he asked, grinning, looking over his shoulder.

Prowl grinned back and stepped against his lover's back to rub his groin against Jazz's aft. "For getting through those ducts, yes. For pounding into and pounding into me, you're just right."

Jazz ground against him, head tossed back and arm up and around Prowl's helm. "Later, lover," he promised before walking again, following the trail of piping that led around to the main holding silo and found the ladder to the roof of it exactly where marked on the schematics. 

Up on the large, flat top they found the locked-- _and welded_ \--maintenance hatch and stood there for a moment, staring at the unexpected obstacle. 

"You'd think they didn't _want_ anyone to get in here," Jazz said, head cocked, hands on his hips. 

"Never stopped us before," Prowl chuckled and climbed up to apply an acid gel to the weld.

Jazz settled in to wait at a safe distance while his mate handled and applied the gel with careful precision. The gel would eat through their armor as fast as the welding if they weren't careful with it. 

"I saved you a seat," Jazz said, patting the inside of his thigh from where he was reclining to wait for the acid to work.

"You always do the nicest things," Prowl trilled and claimed a strut-melting kiss before setting between Jazz's legs with his back to his mate's chest.

"I'm a giver," Jazz agreed amiably, arms wrapped around him as the metal hissed and bubbled. He nuzzled against Prowl's neck, fingers playing over his frame, dipping lower. "How long d'you think that'll take?"

"Three kliks," Prowl rumbled and tipped his helm for a kiss. "Long enough to get good and riled."

"Oh excellent," Jazz said, and the teasing, wandering strokes suddenly became focused and direct, moving immediately to their target and his palm rubbed in circles over Prowl's spike cover. "Just riled, huh?"

A low moan accompanied the cover sliding open, the response ingrained and reflexive by now, but no less welcome. "Unless you work _very_ fast."

"Ooh, a challenge," Jazz purred, and the magnets in one palm clicked on while he pulled a cable and tapped it to Prowl's chest, plugging in and sending a pulsing flow of energy over as soon as the connection was made, feeding over his own charge from the thrill of their task. "You know better than ta make challenges." 

"I know _exactly_ when to make them," Prowl shuddered and retaliated with a strong pulse right back to his mate. His spike slid free and welcomed the hum of the magnetic field and Jazz's palm. "Know what you can do," he let his helm fall back, offering his throat to his love.

Jazz bit and nibbled, not taking any time to tease as he moved both hands to wrap around Prowl's length, pulling with one, palming the tip with the other, playing every ridge and texture to his advantage. He sucked at neck cables and created a steady feedback for the energy that Prowl was sending. "When we get home," he murmured, "I'm going to push you down and ride you _so_ hard."

The combination of promise and sensation made Prowl arch and keen. His frame reacted to his love without hesitation, thrusting into the grip and magnetic field as he lost himself in the flow of electrons. It was a hard, nearly violent ride to the crest of his overload, and when he screamed his release it was only across the cable. His vocalizer muted to avoid drawing too much attention.

Jazz purred deeply, coaxing out spurt after spurt of transfluid, getting it all over the hand that was cupped around the tip. "There," he grinned once Prowl had slumped back against him, lifting his hand up and spreading his fingers out, showing off the strands that dripped between them before brought his hand back to begin licking it clean in an almost business-like manner. "So how'd I do?"

"Three kliks, 431 nanokliks," Prowl gasped out, still a bit dazed. This kind of overload didn't come with the same warm sated sensation as a slower buildup, but it still felt good. "I'll have to reward you properly when we're done."

"And I'll hafta work on my technique," Jazz said as he cleaned off the last finger, chuckling. He nuzzled Prowl's neck one more time before standing and pulling a crowbar from his subspace. He walked to the hatch and carefully worked his way around, loosening the entire cover before standing. Bracing himself against Prowl, he stamped his pede down right over the middle, sending the entire thing falling into the tank. The energon inside splashed as the heavy hatch hit and he leaned over and looked in, watching it sink. "Yeah, that acid probably won't be very good for them," he commented while tossing the crowbar in before that could dissolve as well.

"Somehow, I think the poison will be more noticeable," Prowl chuckled darkly as he took a package from subspace. "Time to leave a mark."

Jazz hummed and stood behind him, arms around his waist and purring as he watched. "I'm so glad you remembered to bring that," he grinned. "It would've been unfortunate to forget it." He stood perfectly still as Prowl looked the poison over for a few moments, a dehydrated, powdered substance that would cause massive corrosion in the systems of whoever drank the infected energon.

"We would have had to fall back on plan B," Prowl chuckled and sprinkled the substance into the huge silo. "Rust well, Decepticons."

"Hope they're thirsty," Jazz said, looking in over Prowl's shoulder. The energon sizzled and churned for a few moments before settling back down, looking like nothing had ever disturbed it, and grinned, visor shining brightly. "We had a plan B?"

"Explosives," Prowl grinned savagely before following his mate down.

* * *

There was a rumor going around Kaon, one that came all the way from Iacon, one that held very little interest for most of the city's inhabitants, but was more than interesting to Jazz and Prowl. 

The Prime, so it was said, was offering amnesty for all past crimes to anyone volunteering for service in the Autobot forces. He was offering new lives, a clean slate, and all he wanted in return was a vow to stand under him and with him against Megatron and the Decepticons. 

It sounded almost too good to be true, and for the two bereft mecha deep within Decepticon territories, it needed a very serious talk. 

"Remember what Devcon said, about him having a way to tell if a spark is good," Jazz said, frowning up at the sky. They were lying next to each together out in the open in the badlands, talking plainly, barely even monitoring for anyone approaching.

"Yes," Prowl murmured uneasily. "But we have been in the core of Decepticon territory, where both our targets live, and made no progress on our mission. We need a different road."

"And imagine being able to use our designations, our _actual_ designations," Jazz murmured, squeezing Prowl's hand. "You cleared of the kidnapping charges, both of us cleared of everything else we've done, not having to worry about being turned over to him." 

"We can be bonded, legally," Prowl added. "We can wear Radiance's designation and our _real_ ones once more."

Jazz shuttered his optics and hummed, unable to hide how much he wanted that, then sighed. "But I have to wonder if it's really as good as it sounds, if it would hold true for us. Or if they'd wipe us. Could be a trap to get the worst criminals in."

"What crimes have we committed against the _Autobots_ , though?" Prowl asked thoughtfully. "Everything since we arrived in Praxus has been against Decepticon targets, if it was criminal."

"It's not the _who_ I'm worried about," Jazz said uneasily. "It's the _how_... the..." He trailed off for a moment. "What if he wouldn't accept a sadist? And we've killed mecha who aren't Decepticons, too." 

"True," Prowl began making a fully compiled, organized list of all they'd done. "If we want the gain, we'll have to risk it. The Autobots can offer a great deal. If it is a trap and they don't extinguish us immediately, I believe we can escape."

Jazz nodded, squeezing Prowl's hand tightly. "Being able to cry out _your_ designation," he whispered with a shiver. "Being legally bonded, wearing Radiance's designation, having your frame back... If the Prime is everything we've heard, the risk is worth it."

"So is the risk for greater resources," Prowl shifted to draw his mate close. "Eleven hundred vorns and we've accomplished none of our goals. We haven't even made progress. It's time for a new tactic and I think the Autobots are a good place to start."

"We've been an awful rusty spot on their plating, though, you have to admit," Jazz said with a grin as he curled up with his lover. "To Iacon, then."


	41. The Interview

Even half destroyed, Iacon was impressive to drive towards, though neither mech was much on taking it in, both working to deal with memories of that long-ago time when they'd been here last. It felt like lifetimes, and in a way it had been. Traffic was much lighter, the war having reduced inter-city travel to a minimum, but the datanet was still live when Prowl pinged it for visitor information on where to stay and he quietly led his mate to a hotel on the nice end of cheap. They didn't have many credits, but Prowl considered it worth it to feel safe walking out the door.

The mech checking them in didn't make small talk. It wasn't a good thing anymore. Most mecha didn't have happy reasons to need a room and Prowl gave him no reason to think that they were any different. They were desperate, just not in the way most who came were. Still, it was a relief to retreat into the relative privacy of a room they didn't need to share and a berth that was soft enough for Prowl's tastes, even if he no longer had doorwings.

Without a sound Prowl drew his lover against him and onto the berth, fingers brushing over an interface port and a dataport as he claimed Jazz's mouth. They spiraled open for him immediately as a leg ran up along his, glossas swirling together.

~Ready for the morning, love?~ Prowl moaned and sent the first pulse of pleasure along the hardline as both his interface panels slid open.

~Yes,~ Jazz breathed, arching against him, spike jutting out and valve slick after just the few exchanges of charge. ~We're here, we're ready, no matter what happens.~

~Yes,~ Prowl moaned, shivering in anticipation. ~And right in this moment, we have time to ourselves.~ He continued the kiss as he rolled Jazz to his back and gently pinned him. ~Whatever happens, my love,~ he slammed his spike home, driving their arrays together in a single motion. ~Whatever happens, we are together.~

Jazz groaned, helm thrown back and valve quivering around his mate. ~Yes, love,~ he moaned, hands tight on Prowl's shoulders. ~I decided that ... if they don't accept us, if they think we should be wiped, I'd rather beg for execution or take our own sparks.~

~Only if we can't escape,~ Prowl agreed without hesitation as he began to thrust deep and hard, taking his mate as completely as he could. ~I will not continue without remembering both of you.~

Jazz shuddered and wrapped arms and legs around his lover, keeping him pulled tight and flush as he bucked back against him. ~Yes, always, love you so much,~ he managed, and then gave in to the driving, pounding force, losing himself to their frames and this secluded moment that served as an oasis from the rest of their life. The kiss muted their cries of pleasure through overload after overload, as not a single arrangement of two frames was left out by the time they collapsed and shut down into a blissfully empty recharge.

* * *

No one looked very long or very hard when two Praxians left the room the next morning, carrying everything they owned with them, and made their way up to the center of Iacon and the archives that had been turned into a military base and stronghold, and the current residence of the Prime. 

The former center of government power had been destroyed and the Senate along with it, so the new Prime and his officers had taken up in the most defensible building in the city, one that also contained their cultural history and had become a treasure of great symbolic importance to the mecha who lived here. It looked different, reinforced and fortified to withstand future attacks, but there was no mistaking the grand entrance, and now Prowl was looking up at doors he had last walked through hand-in-hand with Radiance and now walked through with Jazz for a very different reason.

The small mech that was waiting behind a desk in the grand lobby looked up at them. "Yes?" 

"We're here about the Prime's offer," Jazz said, hand curled around Prowl's arm as they stood side by side. "Amnesty for service." 

The mech's optics lit up a little brighter and he immediately pulled out two forms, one for each. "Fill these out, please, and then you will need to wait here while I review them."

Prowl accepted the two datapads with a small nod, handed one to Jazz and they moved off to a small table to fill them out. It wasn't lost on either how many times the mech looked up at them from the desk. They took a _long_ time to fill them out, and Prowl had to provide many details for Jazz's form.

The reception mech was still there when they finished, and smiled as he took the forms. "If you'd wait over there, I'll be back as soon as I can."

Jazz nodded, x-vented, and noticeably settled his field so the rippling spikes of anxiety that had been growing as they'd listed everything asked for would smooth. "Forgot about a few of those," he said, leaning over with a hint of a smile.

"Remembering such details was never your function," Prowl chuckled and kissed him lightly before drawing his mate to a bench to sit and wait.

"Primus we've had some fun in our vorns," Jazz said, settling against him, head back against the wall, grinning. 

"That we have," Prowl smiled and shifted to tuck Jazz's doorwinged frame against his own. "It feels good to look like this again."

"Mmm, yes it does," Jazz agreed with a loving kiss that they continued to exchange, uncaring of the time until a cycled vocalizer drew their attention to the reception mech.

"If you'll follow me?" he asked, gesturing through the doorway in the back. Tension rippled across two frames as they stood, torn between bolting at the implication of a cage and the implication that they'd passed the first test. "The Prime wishes to speak with you," he elaborated.

Prowl nodded and gently tugged his mate to follow. Another forceful resettling of Jazz's field as they were led back into a grand chamber, where they found themselves face to face with a judgment panel. The Prime was in the middle, and quick ID pings named the others. On Prime's right sat Ironhide, Ultra Magnus and Kup. On his left were Springer and Whiplash. 

Pleasant, flickering surprise went through Jazz's field but he didn't show it in his frame other than a tighter squeeze of Prowl's hand. The familiar presence amongst the intimidating faces helped with the anxiety. They'd been expecting to submit a form and hear back, they hadn't been expecting _this_. This was judgment, plain and clear.

"We have gathered to review your submission," the Prime said in a deep, rumbling voice as the reception mech backed out with a respectful bow. "Hard choices were made in by many in order to survive, and I believe that every living being deserves another chance. In order for this offer to be available to you, you understand that full, willful disclosure of all crimes and requested data is necessary?" 

"We understand," Prowl and Jazz said in unison, both canting their doorwings and bowing their helms in the mixed signals of respect and acceptance that most in Praxus who went to the outside learned to do.

"Do you swear on your sparks that you have not knowingly omitted anything requested on the forms?" Prime asked formally as the officers there began finishing reading. Of them, only Whiplash didn't seem overly concerned or at all surprised, but Jazz and Prowl both knew he realized who they were. Somewhat to their surprise, the small black mech said nothing, but he did give them a small smile and nod.

"We swear," Prowl said easily and smoothly. "Any mistakes are mine."

The Prime offered them a reassuring optic glow as the last of the officers, Kup, finished skimming and set it down with a heavy x-vent, looking exhausted just from reading.

"Well," the Prime said when Kup finally looked up, and there was an almost amused tone to his voice that surprised them. "It's slightly off topic, but I feel the need to chastise you both, before we move to open questioning." 

Jazz and Prowl gave each other a startled look before looking back at him, standing up straight. 

"Ariel was sparkbroken when Susun and Tansi never returned to Tyger Pax," the Prime said, leaning back, fingers laced and resting on the table. 

Despite the level of bewilderment both Praxian frames showed, Prowl found an answer. "We did what we thought was necessary to survive. How do you know Ariel?"

"Before I became Optimus Prime, I was Orion Pax," the Prime said, rubbing a hand over his faceplate. "It is a surprise to meet such an old friend, but if I have learned anything over these last centuries, it is that anything is possible." 

"We have learned much the same," Jazz said, starting to feel better about their chances. 

"Do you understand why we did not return?" Prowl asked cautiously.

"Well," Optimus said heavily, picking the datapad up and scrolling back up through it. "From this, I am guessing that you left due to complications with the carry, and your identities were compromised somehow. You have an impressive list of identities. Are you ready for open questioning? Some of these require explanation." 

"Yes, sir," Prowl canted his doorwings respectfully.

"Which is Jazz an' which is Prowl?" Ironhide asked from the Prime's right. 

"I'm Jazz," Jazz answered, and then held his hand up to his mouth with an odd giggle, earning himself some sharp looks. "Sorry--haven't said that in a couple millennia."

Most of them were frowning at him. "There are an alarming number of murders here," Ironhide continued. "In both of yer histories, and it starts with you," he looked at Jazz. "Why did it start?" 

"Survival," Jazz said simply. "Everything started with trying to survive the mech I was forced to bond to. Making him happy so he wouldn't kill one of us."

"Who is that?" Ultra Magnus asked.

Jazz shuddered, unable to bring himself to say that designation despite trying. He found himself in his mate's arms, held and murmured to until the tremors stopped.

"Vortex of Kaon," Prowl managed, his attention still on his mate. His vocalizer stuttered a bit, but he continued. "Now a Decepticon financer."

"We know of him," Ultra Magnus rumbled. "And I don't think a spark who was alive then didn't hear about the botnapped noble twin carrier, but... I'm going to take a leap and suggest that was not the case." 

"It absolutely wasn't," Jazz said, engines growling. "Prowl saved me, _everything_ we have done was to survive and be together. We never wanted this, when we could live legally we did, albeit under assumed designations. We worked, honestly and legally. Mostly."

"Yeah, the designing a credit cleaning system for illegal weapons sales didn't look too legal," Ironhide said.

"The work itself was legal," Prowl defended himself quietly. "What it was used for was separate from what I was hired to do."

"What else did you do?" Optimus asked curiously.

"We worked the docks, odd jobs," Prowl inclined his helm to them. "Jazz danced, I did accounting. We were buymecha. I was an Enforcer in Praxus. Jazz was ISO there."

All optics went to Whiplash, who nodded. "Saxo was one of my best interrogators, my protégé. Pantera had a tactical processor I never did stop trying to recruit but he was too dedicated to the Enforcers."

"Whiplash joined us under the same offer that drew you here," Optimus explained, looking at them. "It seems you have skills of value." 

"We were unaware that our skills would be part of the decision," Jazz said. "We're here offering to serve, and we want to start a life free from our pasts. We want to stop Megatron. You are our best option."

"We haven't managed much on our own since Praxus fell," Prowl admitted quietly.

"A look at this says otherwise," Kup said, tapping their forms, which included crimes that had been illegal in Decepticon territory when they were committed.

"We didn't manage much towards what _we_ want," Jazz said. "That's why we're here."

"Yeh, but it ain't an open door policy," Ironhide growled. "We need to be sure that nothin' _too_ unpalatable is gettin' in." 

"Yes, can we circle back around to being bonded to a well-known Decepticon and criminal?" Ultra Magnus said, frowning deeply. "Your public records from Kaon seem to be unrecoverable--was the bond physical, legal, or both?"

"Both," Jazz said quietly. 

"Vortex still lives," the mech said. 

Jazz nodded. "To our dismay." 

"Much as _you_ may personally dislike that fact," Ultra Magnus said, " _We_ have to consider that you are spark bonded to a _Decepticon._ "

Prowl regarded the large blue and white mech evenly. "We have told you the complete truth, given you enough information to destroy us, and you question our trustworthiness?"

Unsaid, but plainly clear in his tone was the statement that the Autobots were just as much under judgment here, and currently found rather lacking. It caused more than a few defensive armor ripples among the panel, Prime and Whiplash the notable exceptions. 

"Ain't yer _trustworthiness_ comin' into question here," Ironhide growled. "It's yer ability to keep things like a location from leakin' across." 

Jazz stared at him. "Ya think we'd still be alive if he could sense my location?" 

" _Ya think_ we're willing to take that chance?" the red mech asked, equally incredulous. 

"One moment's slip in concentration from _one_ mech cannot hold so much risk," Ultra Magnus said. "We can grant your pardon, but I'm sorry, that is too much." 

Jazz opened his mouth for a sharp argument, but the Prime cleared out his vocalizer again and stood, silencing everyone.

"Their pardon and their terms of service are my decision alone to make," he said, then looked left, and right, making optic contact with all of his officers. "If you will excuse us, I would like to speak with them alone."

"Leave ya alone with _these two_?" Ironhide objected immediately, waving the datapad at Prime even as most of the others got up to leave.

Whiplash came around to clasp Jazz on the shoulder as Optimus chuckled and assured his officer he was more than capable of handling himself. "It's good to see you survived. I wish you'd made contact earlier though."

Jazz pulled him into a tight hug. "That life hurt too much to remember," he said quietly, and let the pain that he'd been suppressing in his field curl out. "Wasn't expecting to see you. Not sure I was even ready."

Whiplash nodded his understanding and held still until his agent let go. "I'm going to want you back, if you can still take it."

"I can still take it," Jazz promised him. "Believe me, that hasn't changed."

"Good," Whiplash looked at Prowl. "And you?"

"I'm agreeable now," he said evenly.

Whiplash gave a last nod and slipped from the room, locking the door behind him.

Optimus regarded them silently, then stood and came around to stand in front of them, showing his full height as he did. "You have suffered," he said simply, frowning, as he came within teeking range. "You are not ... whole. Pieces of you are missing."

"My creations, our creations, Radiance," Prowl listed with a flare of grief that settled quickly. "Our home, both of our functions. There is little left of what we were intended to be, and even less left of who we were most happy as."

"You will find many who know similar pain," Optimus sighed, and carefully lowered himself down so he was sitting before them, gesturing for them to do the same. They did and he reached for each of their hands. "I need your consent before we continue." 

"Consent for what?" Jazz asked, immediately wary. 

"A spark merge," Optimus said.

"Given," Prowl murmured even before he really thought about what was being asked of him.

"I can't," Jazz lowered his gaze. "Not unwilling, just unable."

Optimus frowned and reached his hand out, touching it to Jazz's chest. "You are caged," he finally said, and shook his head. "The illegal hardware you purchased in Crystal City?"

Jazz cocked his head with a hint of a smile. "Exactly." 

"May I see?" 

Something about the Prime's field was putting Jazz more at ease with him than he'd felt with any mecha besides his mates, and he nodded once, opening his chest. 

"I see," Optimus murmured once he saw the black crystal, brushing careful fingers over it. He looked back to Prowl. "But the connection between you is strong, beyond your life and your sparks. A merge with just one will speak for you both."

Prowl looked at his mate, who nodded. "Thank you. What do you wish to see?"

"All I need to see and feel is your spark," Optimus said gently. "I must be certain that what I have seen of your past will not show itself in a way that harms innocents in the future." 

Prowl nodded, unsure of the answer himself, but he unlocked his armor and offered his spark to this mech that had seen as many unwanted revisions to his existence as Prowl had.

"Thank you," the Prime murmured, and he wrapped gentle hands around Prowl's waist, lowering the Praxian onto his back next to his mate before his own spark came forward. 

Jazz saw the flashing of the Matrix within his chest as the warm blue spark met with his lover's, joining together. A surge of envy went through him and the Prime turned his head to look at him, optics almost white in that moment, before looking back down, and their frames locked into place. 

~You have incredibly strength, my creation,~ a voice whispered to Prowl, backed by a planet-trembling power, pure and raw. ~Strength that has been caged by your frame, love and pain and loss all held in careful check. And hate. Your fury has been held in equal check. You are loyal and dedicated. You will serve with true joy.~

 _Serve_.

A single word-glyph that encompassed all that made Prowl's spark ripple with pleasure and settle in the calm pulses of contentment. Merely the prospect of _serving_ once more made Prowl moan deeply with want and surrendered completely to the merge and the mech who could offer such a thing to him.

A warm, understanding flare wrapped around him before it turned serious again. ~You know the other living piece of your spark better than anyone. Is he _good?_ ~

~Yes.~ Prowl answered without hesitation or reservation. ~He is a good mech, a good spark. All he wishes is to be _free_ to be with us.~

~You will wait many ages before you are whole again,~ the voice said sadly. ~If it happens at all. I accept your submission.~

A flare of light, and energy flooded into Prowl, overwhelming his frame into an immediate overload, one echoed by the Prime above him, joy at feeling the pleasure of another. 

It all happened in kliks before Prowl found his spark separating, and himself looking up at Optimus Prime. 

"That ... was not you." Prowl murmured, trying to wrap his processors around something he could no longer comprehend.

"It was, and it was not," Optimus said, slowly moving away. He looked to Prowl's anxious mate. "Your amnesty is granted. I find your triad union in Praxus to be wholly legal, you are granted full bonded status and rights. I suspect Whiplash will want you for service. Temporary quarters have been arranged until then." 

"Thank you," Jazz said as calmly as he could, doorwings quivering with excitement.

"What ... what _was_ it?" Prowl hadn't moved, his entire awareness wrapped around the question of what had touched his spark and a building panic that he was wrong about Primus and the Well and all it implied. Even as he could no longer recall why he didn't believe or why Primus being real invoked such terror in him, it built to the point where the hack cracked down on the emotions and forced him to calm. He realized that in his growing panic Jazz had reached for him and he hadn't even felt it, and the Prime was giving him a concerned look. 

"The Matrix causes those it binds with to undergo a great deal of change," Optimus said slowly. "Down to spark level, I ... I am aware during a merge, but I am also connected to others through that in a way I was not previously. It allows me to sense more about a spark." 

Prowl shivered, but nodded. "I think we will speak on it more, later. But with all that power ... can you break the spark bond between Jazz and Vortex?"

He felt Jazz's grip tighten hopefully but the Prime shook his head. 

"A spark bond is eternal between its connection points so long as they live," Optimus said. "I'm sorry, I know that would be a great joy for you." 

"We've survived this long like this," Jazz said, nuzzling his mate.

"Then we will never be free of that monster," Prowl's voice leveled even as his field twisted with despair. 

Jazz turned Prowl's head towards him for a soft kiss. "We still find joy. It is our best vengeance."

Prowl nodded weakly as he internally set himself to rights enough for public display and faced the former dock worker who had claimed him as a friend. "Thank you for accepting us, and our legal triad bond with Radiance. We will serve you the best we can."

Optimus nodded and regarded them somberly. "It is unlikely we will meet Vortex in battle, but if he is ever captured, there is more than enough evidence of his crimes for some to pursue execution. It would not be my preference, but..." He frowned, then chuckled somewhat ruefully. "This is why I have officers, or so they like to tell me." He stood, helping each of them to their pedes. "The Autobots welcome you, Jazz and Prowl. Someone will be by to show you to your quarters."

"Good orn, Prime," Prowl canted his wings and bowed more formally. It wasn't quite the kneeling oath of fidelity that his spark was calling for, but it would do for now.

* * *

They combed over every micron of their assigned quarters--little more than a room with a double berth with minimal padding, with hastily erected sheet metal separating their room from the next, a luxury for mated mecha alone--looking for surveillance equipment, found everything that was to be expected, pretended that it wasn't there, and curled up together on the berth. 

Hardlines were out and ports spiraled open before either needed to ask, no question about how this conversation would be conducted. 

~What happened that made you so tense?~ Jazz asked.

Instead of words, or even emotions, Prowl offered the already-packaged memory to his mate and waited for him to unpackage and view it.

~...Primus,~ Jazz whispered, in some awe and much more shock, and beneath all of that was a deep churn of distaste. ~Felt like ... _Primus_ , d'ya think?~

~What else _could_ it have been?~ Prowl's fear began to build once more. ~He's _real_ , Jazz. How can he be _real?_ ~

~ _Calm_ ,~ Jazz commanded, taking Prowl's face in his hands and bringing their helms together. It was gratifying at how smoothly and quickly Prowl accepted the order and calmed down to his core coding. ~This planet--our sparks--they came from _something_ but that _doesn't_ mean whatever that something is, controls our lives or even has any power over them, or us.~

~If he's real, the Well....~ Prowl couldn't finish the thought, not even in his own processors. Though he could no longer trace when it began, the prospect of existing for eternity horrified him too deeply to contemplate. The idea that _he_ might exist for eternity was even worse.

Jazz shuddered, going along the same train of thought. ~If there is a being that would allow _him_ into the Well, it isn't a being I would want anything to do with,~ he said. ~The Well does not negate the possibility of the Pit.~

~...True,~ Prowl followed that thought. In his upbringing, the Pit hadn't really been a subject. His kind did not need to be frightened into obedience, they thrived on service and pleasing their employer-master. ~If the Pit exists....~ he had to stop and try to find out just what sent a spark to the Pit instead of the Well. It wasn't something he'd never thought about, not really. Not in personal terms at any rate.

~...Then, so does the Well, and so does Radiance,~ Jazz said, gripping Prowl through the grief-shivers that still sometimes came with the thought of that designation. ~If _any_ of it is real, he's waiting for us.~ He sighed, frame relaxing slowly. ~Still no way to tell if the Prime isn't just wearing a transmitter in his spark to a powerless entity and we don't just vanish.~

~It doesn't really hurt to believe though, does it?~ Prowl asked, feeling very much like a youngling seeking guidance. ~Either we can have Radiance back, or we won't know anyway...~

~Spend my life believing in a power that let _this_ happen to our world through the rule of a _Prime_ supposedly linked to his essence?~ Jazz asked with a sharp hiss to his voice before he visibly forced himself to calm with a shudder. ~I want to set our home to rights, I want to _love you_ , and then I just ... I just want this all to _end_. With Radiance if he's waiting, without if he isn't. No more than that.~

Prowl shivered, torn until he finally grasped something about himself and offered the understanding to his mate. Belief, _faith_ , wasn't a choice. It simply was. That was what made it faith.

Jazz nodded, arms wrapped tightly around his mate. ~I getcha, Prowler, I do ... just ... it doesn't make _sense_ to me that he could be powerful enough to affect our lives, or why would this have happened? Sure I know there's no way to tell, but I also know that unless he, I don't know, manifests and frags it into me, I'm never going to believe otherwise.~

~I wish Prime hadn't,~ Prowl shivered, curling into his mate's presence mentally and physically for the support he needed as what he had experienced fully integrated into his processors and the changes began to settle. ~I liked it better when I was just going to dissipate.~

~No way ta tell you still won't,~ Jazz said cheerfully, freely offering all his strength for his mate to use. ~Like you said, either Radiance is waiting and we will be with him, or he isn't and we won't know anyway.~ He pressed a soft kiss to Prowl's helm. ~Oh, but what I wouldn't give to get to feel his spark,~ he sighed. ~I hope it _is_ real.~

Without thinking about it, Prowl brought up memories of the merges he'd had and offered them. It was a poor substitute, the processor memories of a spark event, but it was all he could offer the mech he would do anything for to make happy. Jazz accepted with a deep kiss, aligning them with his own memories of those moments and what he'd been able to feel before tucking them back away. ~I love you,~ came the whisper as every part of him cried, _I miss him._

~Yes,~ Prowl agreed to both. ~Love you, will always love and miss him.~

* * *

Jazz and Prowl watched in silence as the Chief Medical Officer, one of the officers who hadn't been present for their panel the previous orn--Ratchet--stomped his way around the med bay, preparing for the full examinations they'd received orders for. They'd arrived precisely at the time written on their forms only to be greeted by a wide-opticked medic who had been prepped for a routine engine tune-up, when their orders called for full examinations, any necessary repairs, and baseline readings of every function, mechanical, biomechanical, spark, and programming. 

So now they were waiting very quietly as Ratchet stormed around, muttering darkly to himself about small black SpecOps commanders who thought quite a lot of themselves and thought they could get away with messing with his perfectly balanced, precise, planned, _orderly_ ornly schedule by slipping in two full examinations at the start of his day.

It was an impressive sight. 

"You!" Ratchet snapped, turning and pointing directly at Prowl, then to the table. "There."

Without a sound Prowl moved and sat on the table, watching for instructions as much as listening to them. This was not a mech he cared to upset any more than he currently did by existing, even if he seriously doubted the temper was any more dangerous than a verbal assault. 

Ratchet scowled at him, seeming almost torn whether to be grateful or irritated by the prompt responsiveness, then huffed. "Lay down, please," he said, and his voice was suddenly significantly smoother than it had been during his ranting. Even his field teeked smoother. As Prowl obeyed, he began flipping on the equipment he'd set up, plugged into the medical port, and his optics unfocused for a moment as he scanned over the initial readings going through his HUD after Prowl granted access. 

"This will take a while," Ratchet said after a few kliks. "You have an ... impressive amount of systems." He tapped Prowl's chest. "Open." 

The flare of tension was expected, but Prowl got his chest plates to open before Ratchet expected, exposing the bulk of his internals and his pale blue spark. The first thing that registered for the medic was there were processor and memory cores inside the main chassis and he immediately leaned in, looking closer, a flicker of intrigue going through his field.

"Do you mind if my colleague observes?" he finally asked, after taking a very long look and scans of several systems. "He's much more familiar with nontraditional systems than I am. You are perfectly within your rights declining if that would make you uncomfortable, however."

"He may observe," Prowl decided. To Ratchet, it was quickly, to both Jazz and Prowl, the choice was dragged out and reviewed repeatedly. "I do not anticipate being any less comfortable with an additional mecha here."

Ratchet hummed. "Thank you. He's more likely as not to work on you if I'm ever away, so it's best you know each other. Your systems are far more complicated than I was anticipating." There was a calm of several kliks as he continued his initial scans and began making notes in a file before the door opened and the colleague strode in, not noticing Jazz where he was leaning against the wall as he headed straight for the table. 

"Wheeljack?" Prowl stared at the mech.

Helm fins flashed brightly in a warm blue of pleasure. "You know me?" He looked harder at the Praxian. "You do look kinda familiar." He peered into the open chest, and after a moment, everything about him just _lit_ up as he looked back at Prowl. "These systems...!"

"My designation is Prowl, he is Jazz. You worked on us in Kaon and again in Crystal City," Prowl explained. "Though we didn't look Praxian at the time."

The fins flashed a startled pale red. "You're the pair that got my best invention!"

"Hey Wheeljack," Jazz said, grinning and lifting a hand in greeting when Wheeljack turned, finally noticing him.

"Jazz!" Wheeljack said, spreading his arms open in greeting. "Scrawny little noble! Wow you both look great! Wow you're both _alive!_ "

"Largely thanks to your invention," Prowl chuckled.

"'Best invention?'" Ratchet repeated, snapping a finger to get Wheeljack's attention again.

"Oh yes," Wheeljack turned to his friend, sort-of-mentor and frequent boss. "I wasn't that long into my apprenticeship with Mucit when we worked on them. I called it sorcelling. They can take on any frame they have the specs for. Well, and the mass. They couldn't pull off a big triple or a microbot, but anything within the range of their mass. Even flight frames. How well has it worked?"

"Very well," Prowl said calmly.

Helm fins lit up indicating an oncoming barrage of questions but Ratchet cleared his vocalizer out, giving Wheeljack a look. The inventor shrugged sheepishly, fins glowing a light yellow. "Sorry, Ratch. This was one of my best and I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to recreate it." He cocked his head and tapped his helm. "Y'know."

"...Ah," Ratchet said, and his field softened. 

"You can't recreate it?" Jazz asked. 

"Well ... no. But maybe I can now, if I can study you!"

"Study?" Prowl repeated warily, every line of his frame warning of what he associated the term with.

"Just look through the mechanics," Wheeljack assured him. "I lost some of the detail specs." 

"What about Mucit?" Jazz asked, and Ratchet shook his head an instant too late to stop the question. 

The fins turned almost gray and Wheeljack shook his head. 

"...Oh," Jazz said. 

"Nasty bit of work called Shockwave," Ratchet growled. 

"Autobots got me out just in time," Wheeljack explained. "But not quite intact."

"After we've settled?" Prowl requested, permission implicit in his phrasing.

"Sure," Wheeljack was quick to reassure him. "It's no rush. It'd be good tech to have, but it's not like anybody has plans based on having it."

"Speaking of _rush_ ," Ratchet said. "I'm going to be backed up for orns with the time it's going to scan and process _your_ complicated toy." 

"Toys," Jazz reminded him with a grin and Ratchet groaned. 

"Right," the medic said, shaking his head, gesturing Wheeljack over and handing him a scanner. "Get started."

* * *

Nearly three joors later Ratchet was inventing new curses, directed at Prowl, Wheeljack, Whiplash, Prime, nobles, Primus and the universe in general. Plugged into the Praxian for a processor scan, he had to employ every one of his medical protocols to keep Prowl's automatic defenses from taking him as a threat and responding with a level of excessive violence that could only have been learned from Vortex. It was even more frustrating with the fact that he could clearly perceive the layers in this processor and the conscious ones, the ones he could reprimand and argue with, were as willing and open as they could manage. It was the lower strata, the ones designed to protect the tactical processor, that were giving him grief.

Prowl didn't have the most powerful processor after frame management requirements that Ratchet had ever encountered. That belonged to the Prime and his multi-tiered social networking hub. But where the Prime's processor power was dedicated to managing people and interpreting the extra data from the Matrix, Prowl's light-matrix sextus processor was dedicated to number crunching. It made the Praxian far more alien to navigate than most Cybertronians. What really made a mess of him was the physical damage that couldn't be repaired and the hacks that Ratchet simply didn't dare try to undo, no matter how much his medical protocols screamed about them being more harmful than helpful.

Ratchet understood what his protocols couldn't. Those hacks were the only thing holding a completely and irrevocably fragged emotional cortex in check. It was ugly, and it crippled the mech without question, but it was the only thing keeping him functional against the damage.

~Will you let me work on those hacks, program them better?~ Ratchet asked carefully. ~I can see you need them, but I can see they weren't written by a medic.~

~I wrote them in the moment,~ Prowl replied, weary from holding so much of himself in check for the exam. ~Yes, I would welcome improvements. I take it you can't repair the damage that made me write them in the first place?~

~A few things, but Mucit was _good_ and he did top grade work on you. I'll fix what I can, but the bottom line is that some of that damage is permanent.~

~As I expected,~ Prowl relaxed as his threat-assessment protocols did. ~They'll calm down once I trust you. It won't always be this difficult.~

~Good,~ Ratchet huffed, but his field was understanding. He glanced at his chronometer and groaned. ~Already irrecoverably behind and I still have one more of you to go. Is your mate as fragged as you are?~

~The sorcelling tech is similar but otherwise, mechanically and software, he is much simpler and less damaged. He is also far more ... excitable.~ Prowl warned cautiously.

~Excitable, huh?~ Ratchet said with a soft chuckle. ~If he's anything like some of the others we've dragged up from all over Cybertron shouldn't be too bad.~

Ratchet finished with his scans and documentation of Prowl's working software while Wheeljack completed the frame specs, coaxed Prowl into giving him a spark reading, and then finally allowed the Praxian to sit up and escape his table. He gestured for the other bored-looking mech in the room to come lie down and Jazz came almost gratefully, nuzzling Prowl on the way by.

"That only took forever," he complained as he lay down.

"It wouldn't if your mate wasn't so complex," Ratchet huffed. "So do you have anything special he doesn't?"

Behind him, where he couldn't see, Wheeljack winced a little, almost guiltily. 

Jazz glanced between them, then back at the intimidating medic. "Er," he said, then grinned brightly and flicked his visor in a wink. "Everything about me is special, Doc."

This time Wheeljack _did_ wince, but his helm fins also flashed in good humor.

Ratchet just growled. "So you're one of _those_ , are you? We'll work on that defect. Let's get started. Open up," he tapped Jazz's chest.

Jazz made a point of settling himself onto the berth as comfortably as he could until he could feel the medic's field about ready to burst from impatience before stilling and opening his chest. His field stayed light and calm, but Prowl knew the tension signs in his mate that showed when nothing else did, and they were all there.

"So how has it been working?" Wheeljack asked Jazz cheerfully while Ratchet sputtered and stared at the mech's open chest.

"Oh it's great, keeps everything out whether I want it or not," Jazz answered with the same tone, lifting his arms up to cross his hands behind his helm, watching Ratchet recover himself. 

"Is this _highly illegal_ piece of hardware your doing too?" he finally demanded, looking at Wheeljack. 

"Ah--no, well, yes, but no," Wheeljack said, fins a light yellow again. "Mucit grew that one. I only helped install it." 

"What, _exactly_ , are you doing with one of these in your chest?" Ratchet growled. 

"Y'obviously know what it is," Jazz said. "It's keepin' my bonded out." 

Ratchet looked at Prowl.

"I'm only his legal bonded," Prowl said quietly, his doorwings not well-controlled enough to hide how much he _despised_ the truth of it. "His physical bonded has been hunting us since we escaped."

"But--" Ratchet said, still staring at the black crystal. "I wasn't at your panel, how did--" He broke off suddenly, and then his scowl was something fearsome to behold. "Prime _didn't_ merge with you." 

"Nope," Jazz said cheerfully. 

"Optimus slagging Prime," Ratchet growled, shaking his head, turning to a console and pulling something up. "Who is your physical bonded?"

Jazz stared at him. "Why?" 

Ratchet turned and looked back. "Because it isn't in your records and there are only a thousand and a half reasons why your primary medical officer would need to know who you are spark bonded to, not to mention the security risks that I'm _guessing_ Optimus danced right past. What if that's damaged somehow or they show up in our ranks? Primus," he shook his head, exasperated. "Bonded's designation." 

"It's--" Jazz said, then froze, field going flat and dull as his visor flickered.

Prowl moved, ignoring the warning growl of the medic as he put his hands on Jazz's shoulders after plugging in to help steady his mate.

"Vortex," Wheeljack supplied, his voice low and uneasy.

"That--that sadist _Decepticon financier?_ " Ratchet exploded. "And Optimus is _okay with this?_ " 

"I have the blocker," Jazz argued, gripping Prowl tightly as his visor steadied and his field began to warm again. "The Prime already passed his judgment for us." 

Ratchet snorted. "If there is one thing to be said about Optimus, it is that he has a tendency to be a little what I like to call soft-sparked. I cannot even _begin_ to list the possible complications..." He shook his head, just staring at them, then sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "Was that a glitch, just now? That freeze?" 

"Why?" Jazz asked, tense and defensive.

"Shu, love," Prowl cooed. "He's a good medic."

"Because as your primary medical officer, I need to know about any glitches. Mild ones can sometimes be repaired," Ratchet explained, keeping his frustration in check and inventing new curses once more for whatever treatment had made these two so defensive and glitched.

Jazz sighed. "Yes. I freeze up when I try to say it." 

Ratchet tsked. "I'll take a look. Getting a reading of your spark frequency is going to have to be more invasive, too, unless you'd like that thing taken off." He took one look at their faces. "Didn't think so. Right, let's get started then." He took a careful step forward, watching Prowl as he did, clearly telegraphing his movements. When Prowl didn't move, he stopped. "This will be easier if I'm not triggering Praxian defensive protocols."

Prowl huffed and looked at his mate. "Are you okay with me over there?" he flicked a doorwing to where he'd been sitting before.

Jazz nuzzled him. "'Course I am. Just keep your aft where I can see it, I'm gonna need _somethin'_ ta look at besides his face," he added in an exaggeratedly loud whisper, tossing his head towards Ratchet. 

"Maybe not my aft, much as you'd enjoy the show to distract you," Prowl chuckled lightly, leaned down to claim a quick kiss and unplugged to return to his seat. It was far enough away for the medic's comfort, but close enough that he could see Jazz and Jazz could see him.

"How long have you two been together?" Ratchet asked, almost not wanting to know the answer. The file said they'd been bonded for over eighteen hundred vorns. More than long enough the overly-mushy phase should have been long over with.

"Arguably?" Jazz said, settling in and allowing the medical access when it pinged. "Since my last vorn as a mechling. More realistically, since my second vorn as an adult."

"And I'm going to guess the _he_ was the time in between," Ratchet huffed as he began a careful cataloging of Jazz's processor, making note of all the places to poke into later, but for now simply getting the high-strung and very aggressive mech used to his presence.

"Yes," Prowl answered from where he was watching. "All the damage came from our vorn-long stay."

"All that ... in a vorn?" Ratchet shot a look at the Praxian.

"Most of it was in the first few orns, really," Prowl shrugged his doorwings. "The rest of the time just ground it in, or set it up to happen as soon as we got out. Both our glitches probably came about in the decaorn after our escape, but are a direct result of what happened with _him_. I know mine was. Be careful when you poke around in his second creation coding. Bits of it are left, and there's a construct that used to be around."

"Used to be...." Ratchet sighed. "Which one of you removed it?"

"I did," Prowl met his gaze. "It was threatening my charge, my love."

"Right." Ratchet stared at him, decidedly uneasy. "So you," he looked at Jazz. "Have parts of noble second creation coding left, and you," he shifted to Prowl. "Have parts of seneschal coding left."

"Mhmm," Jazz hummed. "He has more of it left than I do. The construct was pretty well linked in." He shuddered faintly at the memory of the way it had felt, half-wrecked and broken code creeping through his processor. 

"Were you in stasis, at least?" Ratchet asked. 

Jazz hummed a negative. "Wasn't time. It was going to kill us, and just me if it couldn't get Prowl." 

Ratchet shook his head. "'Jack, would you start on his frame while I look into this?" 

"Sure thing," Wheeljack said cheerfully, more than happy to get his hands back in his tech.

Very carefully, Ratchet began examining what remained of some of the oldest code in Jazz's processor. It was difficult to keep his horror at the way it had been shredded from leaking through, but he was a medic, a full doctor, and it came with the coding. ~Just how developed was the construct when he destroyed it?~

~There were two stages,~ Jazz said. ~The first time it was able to take full motor control when it realized I was taking it from its Bonded. A fully developed, independent profile. The second time it didn't have the same amount of strength, but its awareness was largely the same after it had some time to piece itself back together.~

~That second round it looks like Prowl had the time to do a thorough job,~ Ratchet admitted with grudging respect. ~Is that level of programming knowledge normal for a seneschal?~

~Much of that's just Prowler,~ Jazz said fondly. ~They have to know basic programming for emergency medical assistance, and how to control, design, and maintain the House systems. But he is never content to be an amateur at anything, he has to be an expert. And he has the processor capacity to study dozens of subjects at once if he's relaxing.~

~Which, I'm guessing, if he's not running an estate, he is,~ Ratchet nudged for information, but also to put more context into what he already knew would be one of his more difficult cases. ~He really does have an amazing processor.~

~Mm. 'S the only reason we're still alive,~ Jazz said. He had long ago ceased to be awed by the size and strength of his mate's systems, with as much time as he spent fully immersed in them whenever they hardlined, a direct connection without even the deepest firewalls, but that didn't make him any less aware of how incredible they were. Or any less willing to brag about them. ~One thing to know--he gets anxious when he doesn't have anything constructive to be doing. Literally can't stand being completely idle. Pit, mech probably makes plans while he's recharging.~

~So if I need to keep him here, it's best to give him something to read,~ Ratchet chuckled. ~Has he shown any inclination towards the creative arts? Writing stories or plays, music, painting, that kind of thing.~

The question had an odd, subduing effect on Jazz. ~No,~ he said. ~Nothing like that. He enjoys puzzles, and games, there's one he has running almost constantly, it was a--~ He stopped, cut that line of thought, and switched tracks. ~You're going to find some foreign programming in me, Praxian triad programming.~

~From someone who didn't make it?~ Ratchet asked gently. ~Your third.~

~Our third,~ Jazz sighed, gazing at Prowl. ~He fell with Praxus. I never had any problems with the coding, I'd like that to stay the way it is.~

~It's integrated smoothly. I don't see any reason to try and remove it,~ Ratchet assured him easily. ~I don't try to fix what isn't broken, and that definitely isn't broken. If you keep this frame, it'll help you socialize with the Praxians you meet too. Now, on to actual issues, will you try to say that designation so I can trace the glitch and see about repairing it.~

Jazz nodded and turned to look up at the ceiling. Ratchet could see him accessing a memory of the designation, hearing it, being fully aware of how it sounded and what the glyph was, but when the designation was loaded up into a speech queue, the same freeze happened again. Visor flickered, processor functions locked up, the field went dull.

He worked quickly to trace it back to a fragment of coding he had already marked for removal, part of the construct that had no actual power or intellect. When Jazz came back to himself, Ratchet nudged him to be sure he was all there. ~All right, I've traced it and I believe it originated when you were trying to prevent the construct from calling out, and destroying it at the same time. The order not to say the designation was locked in and still affecting you. Beyond that, the designation is linked into coding that has been removed, which is causing another glitch at the same time. It's a fairly simply fix if you'll let me edit your coding.~ He paused and glanced at Prowl. ~Since this time you'll be offline, your mate may watch me work if he promises not to interfere.~

~I would like ta see you stop him,~ Jazz said with a faint chuckle. ~Yeah all right. I'm not gonna start just sayin' it, but I can see where it would be useful to have the capability.~ 

Ratchet snorted. ~Damn right.~


	42. Training

A knock on the door to their quarters entirely too early in the morning for Jazz pulled both mechs from their enjoyment of each other three orns after Ratchet had deemed them free of the medbay, so long as they recharged and fueled enough. Jazz groaned, slumped, face pressed against Prowl's neck for a moment before he kissed there and pulled out of him, retracting his spike with a shudder before he settled his plating and his field. 

He answered it to find Whiplash leaning against the wall outside, and a moment later, Prowl was against his back, also looking out at the matte black mech. 

"Really, 'Lash?" Jazz asked, rubbing back against his lover, then grinned. "Here ta join in?"

The matte black visor flashed and a grin etched itself across the small mech's features. "Only if you're offering."

Jazz's visor brightened with interest, genuine surprise, and he flickered a question through his field to his mate. "No work before play lecture?" he teased. "You must be desperate."

"If you want his spike, I don't mind," Prowl murmured with a kiss to his mate's neck. His own field, slightly flat and devoid of the arousal that had filled it so recently, was a clear statement of his intent not to join them.

"Less desperate and more knowing how good you are," Whiplash grinned shamelessly at the lovers.

"Mm," Jazz smirked. "You should see some of the tricks I picked up in Kaon. Later? I've been missing your namesake," he grinned, then turned his head to nuzzle his mate. "Three isn't a good number for us."

Comprehension and regret flashed across Whiplash's field and to them both. "Later then, when your mate is otherwise occupied. It's time for orientation." He waved for them to follow as he turned on heel with the smooth grace of that same namesake.

"But--" Jazz said, unresolved arousal and frustration in his field, starting to follow and then stopping again. "Our orders are for starting with the next training group in seven orns."

Whiplash gave him a cruel grin. "One: I said orientation. Two: you know full well leave is a suggestion at most for Ops. Three: you didn't have to turn down the overload."

"He has you on all three," Prowl said deadpan from behind his lover even as his field danced with mirth.

"I can't change my mind?" Jazz asked with a sulk in his voice as he followed.

"I suppose you could," Whiplash chuckled and turned to look at them as he leaned against the wall. "Are you going to?"

"Gimme 'n Prowler five kliks ta talk it over?" Jazz asked, flashing Whiplash his best grin.

"If talk is all you do, and no touching is involved," Whiplash grinned back.

"Is that a challenge?" Prowl purred with distinct interest.

"Or a threat," Whiplash winked his visor. "However you care to take it."

Jazz muttered a low curse. "You're evil," he growled, looked at his mate, grabbed his hand and tugging him into their quarters, locking Whiplash out. A completely symbolic gesture, since no lock in Iacon would hold to Whiplash any better than it would hold to Jazz or Prowl.

"So, since I have little desire to find out what punishment he invents, how do you want to burn off this charge?" Prowl rumbled softly, already queuing up as much seductive dirty talk as he had.

"You think hardline counts as touching?" Jazz purred as he sat on the berth, leaving enough room for Prowl to sit with space between them.

"If half of what I know if true is, yes, it counts," Prowl said firmly. "So is touching yourself."

"Frag me," Jazz groaned, leaning back, settling his hands carefully on either side of him, spike extending as soon as he released the cover. "I'm going to pound you _so_ hard later." 

"Good," Prowl rumbled, looking hungrily at his mate. "But for now, what do you want me to do to you?"

Jazz x-vented, harsh and hot, then managed a grin. "Talk ta me, lover," he purred, field licking eagerly against his mate's.

Prowl shivered at the intensity there and leaned forward, bracing himself with a hand on either side of his lover's helm, close enough their x-vents swirled together and caressed their plating. "What about, lover? What I'm going to do to you when I can get my hands on you next?" Prowl asked with a deep thrust of his field into Jazz's frame. "What I'm going to plead for you to do? Or what about what you want Whiplash to do when I'm elsewhere?" he asked with a throaty rumble and another deep thrust.

Jazz's hands gripped the berth as he arched up, frame still burning and desperate for its lover, but stopped before he rubbed up against Prowl. " _Yes!_ " he moaned. "Yes, that one!"

"You're going to have him tie you up like a common criminal," Prowl growled with a hard drive of his field. "He'll stalk around you, judging you, before you hear the snap of his whip. The first strike down your back, a caressing line of liquid fire." He slammed his field deep into his lover, the pulsing in time with Jazz's spark. "He'll demand you submit, but you don't. You both know the game, know what it takes to sate your needs and he'll indulge you in strike after strike, marking your plating until you're so hot your panels open, exposing yourself, slick and hard, for his entertainment."

Jazz squirmed and whined under the mixed assault of field and voice, pressing his own back, hot and flush and rippling with arousal as it synced up to Prowl's rhythm. "Three kliks left," he gasped. "Prowler, lover, love, baby," he arched up again, so close the heat from their frames shimmered between them, field slamming back just as hungrily in the next moment. 

"The lash curls around your hip on the inside, just barely missing the platelets," Prowl rumbled, still pulsing his field as he moved one hand between his lover's legs. The magnets in his hand turned on, pulling, then pushing against the sensitive equipment. "You're crying out by then, hot, dripping with need for him to _touch_ you. He keeps playing though, building your charge with the teasing pain so when he finally does snap the whip across your valve your scream for him."

Jazz shuddered with a harsh cry, very nearly pushing himself right into Prowl's hand when he shook with overload, pushing his charge up, out, forward into his mate. " _Prowl!_ " he shouted, and the deep joy at being able to scream that designation out was still consuming in his field.

Prowl reveled in it, in the pleasure and joy there. He continued to work his field and magnets until his mate gave a final shudder and collapsed back on the berth. "Feeling better, love?"

"So much better," Jazz purred, still squirming a little and resettling his plating. After another few moments he crooked a finger under Prowl's chin, still not touching, and Prowl followed as flawlessly as if he had been. A sharp nip in the air before his lower lip and a flashing grin, barely microns separating them. "Oh, you are _so_ gettin' loved on later." 

"As will you, my Jazz," Prowl purred deeply before reluctantly drawing away to stand. He offered a cloth without a word, but with a smile for the gleaming line of transfluid splattering Jazz's abdominal plates.

Jazz hummed, shimmied himself more upright, and cleaned himself up enough to be presentable before resettling his frame once more and standing. "Ready ta meet the terror that is your new boss?" he asked, a little louder than necessary as they walked out to rejoin Whiplash, his arm going around his mate's waist the moment they were out of the room. 

"Of course," Prowl said smoothly, giving no hint that he'd just overloaded his mate without touching him, or that he had a fairly high charge still dancing through his systems.

"Glad you've sorted that out," Whiplash gave an even more impressed look at Prowl. "He always has paid better attention when he doesn't need to get off."

Jazz nuzzled his mate, as proud as Whiplash was impressed. "Just because that _one_ time," he said, grinning at his boss. "Orientation, then, is it?" 

"Yes," Whiplash nodded and lead them halfway across the base, then down into newly constructed tunnels, through security systems that were entirely too familiar to Jazz, and into a complex that was far too old and well-used to have been created after the assault.

"The Prime let you open all this back up, huh?" Jazz asked, looking around. "Was he surprised you didn't destroy it?" 

"Sentinel didn't know about it, and Optimus barely does," Whiplash chuckled. "He knew I had a base, and I gave him a base. But he never got the core of the complex."

"To destroy this facility would cave in everything above it," Prowl said quietly. "The Palace of the Prime, what remains of the Senatorial complex, half the merchant district."

"You have a remarkable sense of spatial relations," Whiplash considered his prize thoughtfully as they rode a lift down six more levels. "You are also correct. I could have had quite the revenge if I'd wanted to, but this complex is worth more than that."

Jazz hummed. "Got a pretty good revenge on the Senators that cared more about their careers than Iacon's structural integrity, all the same," he remarked. He brushed his field affectionately against his commander's. "I did miss you."

"What's your take on the new Prime?" Whiplash asked, all business except for the welcoming and pleased brush of his field in reply.

Jazz glanced at his mate. "I think he is too willing to forgive. It worked in our favor this time, but I have to wonder what he would do if _he_ came for amnesty."

"It would make our lives _much_ easier," Whiplash purred with a deadly grin.

"What better way to make a mecha disappear in a training accident than to have him in Ops?" Prowl chuckled.

Jazz grinned. "True enough. How much do his officers actually run everything? He a puppet like all the others?"

"That's the weird part," Whiplash said. "He's no puppet. He's reasonably practical and not the least bit disturbed by trusting others to do their functions and teach him, guide him, but when he makes a choice, it sticks. Right now we control a lot and do a great deal, but I'm already watching him take back duties and authority as he learns how to handle them. It's somewhat unsettling, especially after what I experienced in the merge, but overall he's a good mech like very few I've met."

"...What _did_ you experience?" Jazz asked, voice low. 

Whiplash regarded his agent steadily as they entered another hallway and continued walking. "A being powerful enough to be Primus. He wasn't displeased with me despite the number of sparks I've sent back to him early."

Prowl drew in a deep, vent of air and steadied himself.

"Hater or unbeliever?" Whiplash asked calmly.

"Unbeliever. Now ... less sure," Prowl admitted.

Jazz resettled his armor uneasily. "Doesn't seem to matter what a mecha thinks, anyway, there isn't anything we can do about it."

"But there is a lot we can do _with_ it," Whiplash reminded his interrogator. "The way you handle a true believer is very different from an agnostic or atheist or cultist or casual believer. Where do you stand these orns?"

"I know how to handle different beliefs," Jazz said, his tone a little offended. "Knowing what someone _else_ thinks is far more important than what _I_ think. And I don't know," he admitted, engine growling a little in frustration as he spoke, and the next words came as a low hiss. "I know if he _does_ exist then I hate him."

Prowl put a steadying hand on his mate's side and drew him close. "Love, he's asking to use it against us."

"He'll learn anyway," Jazz murmured, almost fondly. "He's good at that." 

"You're better," Whiplash gave a fond smile for the mech that had been well worth all the exasperation of training and humoring him. "Though I should warn you, I need interrogators far less than I used to. Pretty much everyone who's survived is an all purpose agent."

"So Jazz has some training to go through yet, and I have a great deal," Prowl summarized.

"Yes. You'll have a specialty, everyone does, but you'll be trained for and expected to do anything needed," Whiplash was serious. "I'll be fast-tracking both of you, Jazz to command and you to tactical, and I won't lie, there's a lot of unpleasantness involved. Jazz has gone through the worst of it as far as training, but not the field work he'll be seeing a lot more of. There is risk of death, capture, torture, and I usually don't recommend anyone mated, much less a pair, into this line for that exact reason. This is your last chance out into an easier part of service--science, medicine, development, tactical, even infantry. No one will judge you. But you've got two of the best processors I've worked with, and I also won't lie about this: we're not doing well, and we need mecha good at the work. If you still agree, you're in for good."

Prowl simply nodded. "You know what we've been doing since Praxus fell. This is what we're good at. We aren't exactly socialized to deal with a normal chain of command anymore."

Whiplash nodded with grim pleasure. "Then we'll begin now."

They looked around the room they'd found themselves in, cavernous and empty. 

"What, exactly, does 'orientation' entail?" Jazz asked with a bit of a suddenly uncertain flicker through his field. 

Whiplash's grin as he backed away to the door was almost feral. "Baseline readings. Find an exit, try not to die, and do try to enjoy yourselves."

He disappeared, the door locked behind him, and Prowl and Jazz had a few nanokliks to look at each other before the entire room transformed around them, walls shooting up from the floor and nearly separating them before Jazz leaped over a growing gap in the floor, grabbing onto Prowl. The floor shook for another klik, and when it steadied, they were looking down a long, empty corridor that branched off at the end. 

"Find an exit, try not to die, have fun doing it," Jazz said dryly, already pulling weapons from his subspace.

"Sensors high, move with more caution than speed, be ready to bolt," Prowl laid out his initial plan, his own weapons ready as he turned them around the direction they'd come in.

"Right," Jazz said, back against his mate's. "An' let me know if y'see any nice looking dark corners."

"If only we get that lucky," Prowl murmured as they worked towards the door they'd come in.

"He _said_ have fun," Jazz grinned, each step measured and in perfect sync with his mate. "I think we flunk if we don't."

"I'll frag you in the last dark corner we find if need be," Prowl teased, every sense alert as they worked down the hall.

Jazz smirked to himself, scanning with both visor and doorwings. A low, rumbling sound became audible and they both froze, able to feel the tiny but growing tremors in the floor. "...Why do I have a bad feeling about this," Jazz deadpanned, turning to face the same way as Prowl as soon as the direction of the tremors became discernable. Nothing they could see, but the noise was getting louder. "I'm thinkin' run," he said, starting to back away from it, then turned and started sprinting. Prowl was right on his heelplates, guard and guarded all at once. While their optics watched for trouble from the front, the bulk of their sensors watched behind them.

Well above, in the control room, Whiplash watched with keen interest. He'd never had agents quite like these two, and while they had vulnerabilities that made him uneasy, what they offered was exceptional. It wasn't just Jazz's skill and adaptability or Prowl's incredible processor that made them so prized by the SpecOps commander. It was what they had accomplished since losing their home. With no assets, no support, no training to speak of and no contacts, the pair had not only survived eleven hundred vorns in the core of Decepticon territory, but thrived and made a Prime-grade nuisance of themselves. 

They'd survived.

He still marveled at that fact just a bit.

It took them nearly an orn, and by the end of it they were battered, dented, torn, and leaking, but they were _alive_ as they stumbled through the open archway at the end of the maze, fleeing from the drones, each of them taking a few last shots over their shoulders before the wall slammed shut behind them. 

Still battle primed and alert, and not quite realizing that it was over, the very first reaction was weapons up, targeting systems online, scanning every micron of the small room, only finding a simple table and chairs with two cubes of energon and a camera in the corner. Prowl focused on the energon and had it in a free hand the moment his sensors did not register an immediate threat.

He had it finished and his weapon back up to take on any threat when Jazz lowered his blaster and claimed his cube under his mate's guard.

Their plating slowly relaxed from its tight grip around their protoforms just enough to start venting heat when they'd finished and nothing fired at them, but the single door did not make either very comfortable.

::You're safe in there,:: came Whiplash's voice over their comms. ::When you're ready, go out the same way. The sim will be shut down and a medic will be waiting.::

"Trust him now?" Prowl looked at his mate, who nodded. Weapons were powered down and tucked away, armor extended further and Prowl stepped into his mate's personal space. "I seem to remember promising to frag you in the last dark corner we found. It's not dark, but there's a good solid wall and I'm revved up enough to make you scream."

Almost obligingly, the lights dimmed themselves, leaving the space lit by their visors alone. Jazz grinned. "Meddlesome little thing," he said before pulling Prowl against himself, grinding their pelvises together and moving back against a wall. "Revved up enough to not be gentle," he purred, bringing Prowl's hands onto the dents in his frame, moaning just from the teek of his mate's charged-up field, thick with the lust of _fight_ and _chase_. 

Prowl simply rumbled and slammed his mate into the wall with a biting kiss and strong hands that made no effort to be gentle as they pinned and lifted Jazz into position for Prowl's tapered, textured spike.

The valve was bared and ready for him to sink into, driving up and back with a low grunt when Jazz groaned and shuddered around him, squeezing the hard, aching length. Jazz bit back into the kiss and claws snapped out to catch and tug at his mate's armor, their frames working and pounding against each other as the heat and energy from the chase all came flooding out into their fields.

As revved up as Jazz got with torture, Prowl got that way from the chase and it had been a long, long time since either had made any effort at denying their lust when roused. Prowl growled and thrust, deep, hard and without the least bit of care that they were being watched, recorded and judged on many levels. Pleasure roared through him, across already heated circuits to pool around his spark and spike.

"Love you," Prowl moaned as his driving thrusts became a bit more jerky. "Jazz!"

"Nnn--Prowl, _Prowl!_ " came Jazz's deep, joyful moan, hips bucking erratically back against Prowl's. " _Frag_ I love you--" One hand dragged down around front, claws scraping, centering over the hidden chamber beneath, the other dug into Prowl's shoulder for leverage. "--Love ya, Prowler, babe, _yes_ ," Jazz arched up, hard, before slamming down, impaling himself again and again as he overloaded, screaming, " _Radiance!_ "

"Yesss," Prowl keened, his thrusts matching his mate's while motions, each jerking thrust pumping another shot of scalding, crackling transfluid deep into his mate. "Radiance," he moaned, a loving designation-glyph for their missing third as they slowed to a stop, Prowl's mass pinning him against the wall the only thing that kept Jazz up. "Love you both," he whispered as his frame relaxed.

Jazz squirmed and shivered around him, in his arms, against him, legs wrapped tight around his waist, grip slowly loosening. He pressed his mouth to Prowl's neck with a heavy x-vent, kissing as he ran now gentle fingers over his chest, tracing both grooves from his claws and damage from the sim. "Always," he murmured, then grinned against him. "That was hot, Prowler." 

"It was," Prowl smiled and nuzzled his love, his legal bonded as granted by the Prime. "This was a good choice, I think."

"Mhmm," Jazz hummed, not in the least bit inclined to move, but the slapdash first aid they'd done in the field was not going to hold up forever and the prospect of being fully refueled was starting to grow more and more tempting. "'M glad we decided ta try." 

* * *

For possibly the first time in his adult life, interfacing was not the first thing on Jazz's mind as he finally-- _finally_ \--reached his shared quarters with Prowl, and he hadn't seen his mate for more than a passing kiss when they were in the same part of the compound for more than a dozen orns. He was exhausted and aching from the constant battery of skills placement testing, but it was over, and their real training would start now. 

But, tomorrow. For now, a much-longed-for break. 

Of course, the sight of Prowl stretched out on their double berth quickly chased away any thought of collapsing right into recharge and he immediately snuggled up to his mate, nipping at his neck. 

"Hello, love, my Jazz," Prowl purred and drew him closer, intensely enamored of saying his mate's real designation now that they openly could. "So what do you think of their testing?"

"I think they can go frag themselves with it," Jazz grinned, drawing Prowl into a kiss. "Been a _long_ time since I've been this sore from anything. Mm, but they won't stop talking about you, apparently you did well or something."

"They're pretty excited about their new saboteur too," Prowl chuckled when the kiss finally ended, his hands working along his mate's frame to check for damage. "Even Whiplash seemed surprised at how many skills we picked up on our own. It was rather entertaining to flummox them and their testing."

Jazz all too happily moved and shifted to give Prowl the best access that he could. "Didja do that one, the stealth test? Took 'em seven joors ta find me." His hands found Prowl's waist, and then his hips, and then stayed there, teasing into the joints. "Coulda done _that_ when I was a mechling hiding from my carrier."

Prowl laughed between gradually heating kisses and touches. "Oh yes. But you couldn't have hidden from _these_ mecha for so long back then any better than you could hide from me. It was rather fun. I haven't gotten that much recharge in a while, and several agents that I dropped into stasis are still asking me how I can be so quiet."

"You," Jazz said, "Had that full estate security system and that's cheating. Mmm," he hummed when a warm hand ran over his flank, "I didn't recharge, followed 'em around and tagged 'em with tracers. Every, last, one." He punctured his words with small nipping kisses against Prowl's lower lip, one leg sliding up along his.

"Tracers that are still active?" Prowl purred as his spike panel slid open.

"Why?" Jazz purred back, nudging with his hips and pushing Prowl's shoulders, rolling him easily to his back and swinging up into a familiar straddle, legs spreading open around his pelvis. "Wanna go track down a couple?"

"Not at the moment," Prowl groaned and rocked his hips up against the inviting heat. It didn't take long for his spike to pressurize fully and begin rubbing ardently against the platelets.

Jazz ground back, moving his hips in a slow, steady rocking, touching, teasing, caressing his lover's length, never letting him sink into the tight slickness. "'Lash made me take 'em off, anyway," he gasped, shivering from the thousands upon thousands of tiny charged pulses that the ridged textures sliding through his platelets was causing. "Bet I could get 'em back on."

"It'd only tick Whiplash off," Prowl moaned, his fingers clutching reflexively on Jazz's hips, wanting without demanding. "Rather spend spare time with you."

"Not gonna be a whole lot of that," Jazz said, voice strained. "Jus' hafta frag you senseless every chance I get." He groaned, having trouble keeping his own slow pace. "Tell me what your favorite was, what made your processor feel _good_."

"Tactical sim," Prowl shuddered with the achingly slow buildup of pleasure. "It felt _amazing_ to be hooked into a system again, to push myself that far. I didn't want it to end."

"Kinda like this," Jazz said with a gasping laugh as he leaned back, arms going out behind him to the berth to support his weight as he swirled and rocked his hips. His valve was _quivering_ around the emptiness, craving that well-loved spike, but he bit his lip and kept rubbing their frames together. "Want that sweet spike of yours, babe," he moaned. "Want it in me, want it _piercing_ me and stretching me, is that what you want?"

"Yes!" Prowl keened and bucked his hips. "Please, babe. I need your heat, the pleasure in your field."

Jazz panted and grinned, helm tossed back, claws digging into the berth. "Tell me what you want, one more time," he managed. "Wanna hear it before I take you."

"I want your slick, tight valve around me, rubbing and sliding as the pleasure builds until we can't stand it," Prowl gasped, his own optics locked on the vision of his mate. "I want to feel how good it is to be filled, stretched by me. I want to feel your spike deep inside me after that, to feel you rub inside me, fill me. Want your pleasure. Want your cries. Please, my Jazz. Let me inside you."

"Such a good pet for me," Jazz groaned with an eager shudder, and in one unbroken motion, shifted his hips up, down, and then back, sheathing his mate in a single slide, taking him in completely. Their frames slammed together with their dual cries and Jazz began to ride his lover, hard and fast and unforgiving, driving their hips together. "Spill in me, come on babe," he keened. "Know you're close and your Lord wants it, legs spread so wide for you, know you wanna shoot in me, make it so good!"

Prowl keened and thrashed his helm at the building sensations assaulting him. His hands grabbed Jazz's hips blindly and he thrust, deep and hard, matching his mate's motions. "Ohhh, my Lord!" Prowl howled with a last thrust and pumped a crackling load of thick transfluid deep inside Jazz, setting of a maelstrom inside his mate.

Jazz's scream joined his as he shook, bucking with each crack of charge through their frames, energy enough to arch away into the air. " _Yes!_ " he cried out, tearing into the berth as he grasped for leverage through the pounding waves. 

The first hint of the overload fading and Jazz was pulling off, swiftly and smoothly leaning forward over Prowl, claiming a hard kiss, grinding against him. "Spread for me," he growled, already hard between them. Prowl's legs were spread immediately even as he kiss back and rolled his hips in offering.

"Please, my Lord, my wonderful Lord Jazz. Please fill me, use me, claim me in every way you desire," Prowl moaned, panting and desperate for what was being promised.

Jazz's frame gave a hard, rolling shudder as he gave a few more short, dry thrusts against his love's plating before shifting back and _slamming_ forward. His hands went to either side of Prowl's head, holding there instead of a pin, and his hips drove relentlessly, taking and claiming and losing himself in that frame and field. His face pressed to Prowl's neck and he moaned, hunching up over him, burning and panting with effort. "Yes, _yes_ ," he gasped. "So good, everything I want, Prowl, _mine!_ " 

"Yours, always yours," Prowl keened, shaking with the hard jolts of pleasure rocked his frame. He stretched his arms above his helm and surrendered his frame completely to the will of his lover. "Fill me, please. Fill me with your transfluid. Fill me with _you_."

"Your reward, pet," Jazz managed, and with a short, harsh cry and a quick double thrust of his hips, he shot into his mate, burning hot, crackling with energy, rushing through him. " _Prowl!_ " 

Prowl howled and locked his legs around his mate as the overload took him, flashing over his armor and whiting out his processors with bliss until he sank down, sagging in the afterglow of two intense overloads. "My Lord is most generous."

"My pet is most obedient," Jazz purred in deep contentment, then gave another short roll of his hips before pressing a demanding kiss. "And nowhere _near_ finished pleasing me." 

* * *

Whiplash stood in their most advanced tactical training room, a room he honestly doubted could fully tax the new recruit but would at least put him through his paces, and watched his lead tactician lean casually against the wall. Not that the brightly painted Praxian was fooling him. Smokescreen was uneasy at best and downright twitchy, for him. Mech had the best game face on base at the table, but not always the best one when he _cared_.

Not against a senior Ops agent at any rate. He's probably pass with anyone else.

"Afraid he'll have your post?" Whiplash took a stab at the reason.

"No," Smokescreen shook his helm, his doorwings twitching.

"Bad history there?" Whiplash took another guess.

Smokescreen cocked his helm at his boss, then chuckled. "No history, it's just going to be _weird_ teaching my carrier. By all accounts he was many times my better despite what he did."

"Going to be a problem?" Whiplash focused on what mattered.

"Nah," Smokescreen shook his helm. "No problem for me."

"Good," was the succinct reply before Whiplash glanced back at him. "You know I tracked you down because of who your carrier is."

That earned a very real scowl from the Praxian. "That's not a compliment."

Whiplash's almost amused grin made his doorwings twitch again. 

"No history, many times your better, and yet that's not a compliment?" the matte black mech mused aloud. "Sounds like history to me, just don't let it become an issue." 

"No history because we've never met," Smokescreen rumbled in explanation. "He's still a traitor and I had to grow up being reminded of that every orn, and when I wasn't being reminded of _that_ , it was that I wasn't as good as he was."

"Traitor," Whiplash repeated, actually somewhat surprised to hear that word used to describe Prowl until he put it within the context of the noble servant class. He hummed thoughtfully, head tilted back. "You might ask him for that story from his side some orn."

Smokescreen huffed. "I'm sure he'll try."

Whiplash's armor rippled in a shrug as the door opened, on time to the nanoklik. 

"Prowl," the Ops Commander greeted him. "This will be your tactical instructor from here on out, designation Smokescreen. He's our lead tactician."

Prowl paused as the door closed, surprise lifting his doorwings as his optics locked onto the brightly painted Praxian. "Smokescreen?"

"Yes, that Smokescreen," the Praxian hissed. "I've heard plenty about you."

"He tells me you've never met," Whiplash said, nodding.

"Not to my knowledge," Prowl agreed, stepping into proper teeking range, careful to keep his field accepting and largely neutral. He actually leaned back slightly at the anger that flashed across his only surviving creation's field. "I apologize for the hurt I caused you for...."

"It's a bit late for that," Smokescreen cut him off. "Let's start."

Prowl simply nodded, put on his most professional air, and followed his creation to the tactical station.

"Your pretesting indicated that you are weakest when it comes to the tactics involving large groups, army size," Smokescreen began, all business, gesturing for Prowl to sit at a workstation with one large screen in the middle, direct hardline hookups, and a handful of smaller monitors and screens on either side and in the wall behind. "So we're going to start with that, increasing the difficulty in small steps. You also show a need for improvement when it comes to personal tactics--that is, judging and properly reacting to the emotions driving an opponent. That will slowly be worked into your lessons as well. I will monitor and critique, but never guide. You will find your expected schedule as the first available download once you log in, and then please access and execute the first sim."

Prowl did as told, easily settling into the order of his current rank and plugged into the hardline ports. He downloaded and integrated the schedule into his personal one, then accessed the first sim. It was, as expected, a small battle with approximately four hundred mecha in all. He had full data on his troops and limited, occasionally conflicting data on the opponent. His goal, however, was clear and concise: defend the outpost. Do not allow it to fall into enemy hands at all costs.

He double checked the definition of 'at all costs' and went to work.

"Got any questions?" Smokescreen asked, watching the wall display and plugging into his own station to monitor.

"Am I giving orders to any real mecha?" Prowl asked calmly as the sim ran. He was outnumbered at least 2 to 1, but the facility defenses were solid. It was not a good situation, but he calculated a 73.3% probability of success.

Beyond them, Whiplash chuckled in open amusement.

"Pff," Smokescreen scoffed while he flicked an annoyed wing at his commander. "Not yet, newbie. But you should still run it like you are. Additional assignment: given the reported background, speculate on the emotional state of the opposing commander, to be reported when the sim is concluded." 

Prowl hid his scowl, though his wings gave a tiny twitch as he was forced to divert some of his attention from the battle to trying to do better than guessing what the mech might be feeling. That assignment quickly took up more and more of his processor until Prowl was forced to sideline it in favor of winning.

He immediately felt a ping requesting his attention through the hardlined system but from outside the sim, ID'd it, and accepted. 

~Your performance just increased dramatically,~ Smokescreen said. ~What did you do?~

~Abandoned the real-time emotional analysis to focus fully on the primary mission,~ Prowl explained.

Smokescreen mulled that over for a moment, then nodded silently behind Prowl. He couldn't fault the prioritizing. ~You will still be responsible for the post-sim report.~

~Understood,~ Prowl responded as he turned his attention to the question. He personally doubted he would get much further than he was right now, which amounted to 'following orders' and nothing useful.

* * *

When Whiplash wanted to disappear, he _disappeared_. The matte finish that covered his entire frame allowed him to slip into shadows and move without reflecting light, an internal temperature sensing system allowed him to match to the environment to avoid IR sensors if he was still, and his internal systems could run at less than a whisper while still giving him full maneuverability. It cost strength and speed, but stealth was quite often more important than either.

Especially when hunting something that was trying to be as stealthy as he was. 

This mech was good, a nearly silent intruder, but he didn't have the same IR detection-avoidance systems and Whiplash had picked him up almost by chance, creeping into one of the lower levels of the base with codes that had to be stolen from an agent. 

He had several out in deep cover right now, not due at checkpoints for metacycles yet, and no way to find out which one the mech had gotten to without taking him, which was exactly what Whiplash planned on doing. 

A mid-sized grounder, unremarkable, nothing about him to suggest the skill needed to break into this compound and move through it with this level of assurance. He was being careful, and wary, but he was also comfortable. 

Whiplash grinned. He was going to break that comfort.

He might even give his protégé a gift when he got back, if Jazz performed his mission well. They hadn't had a mech they could kill for a few vorns and he knew Jazz missed it.

Up a level, still moving carefully but with greater confidence, the intruder gave no hint that he was aware of his shadow or what was coming for him.

A quiet corridor with enough room for Whiplash to maneuver and take advantage of his agility and training, since just a glance told him that the mech was bigger and stronger, though the route he was taking was starting to look like it was heading towards energon storage, so he was possibly also not at full strength. Whiplash still wasn't going to take the risk that it was just chance, since he found it unlikely that a mech with this skill level would break in and head for energon instead of something more valuable. Energon could be stolen from easier places than this one; he had more valuable secrets to guard.

He knew the moment the mech heard him by the tensing in the frame, but Whiplash was on him faster than he could react, tumbling them both down as he twisted the arms up and back, pushing forward. To his shock, one of the hands slipped free with no effort, using the single weakness in this attack hold, and an arm swung back, elbow striking him right in the side hard enough to dent and shove him to the side.

The intruder was on his pedes in an instant and lunged, but out of stealth mode Whiplash was faster and he rolled out of the way. On his pedes once more and lacking the element of surprise, the matte black mech began to circle his target, looking for the weakness that was there. Worst case, he only needed to keep the intruder busy for a few kliks so backup could arrive.

The mech didn't move for a moment, just _stared_ at him, then Whiplash heard the telltale sound of an engine that was about to run for it. He had a blaster out and live in an instant, and when the turn and step came, he _lunged_ , weapon going to the back of the neck as he pushed the mech's head forward with a clawed hand, slipping the narrow muzzle into the gap that opened between the armor plating, pointing right at the processor. "Don't move," he growled, digging his claws in warning. 

A frustrated growl. " _'Lash!_ " the mech hissed back in a voice that was too familiar. "For frag's sake, you could teek that I was less than a quarter century but you can't teek that it's _me?_ "

"What the?" the matte black mech froze for a nanoklik, then pushed his field in deep, ruthlessly delving into systems until he ran into the empty space where a spark should have been, from the strong spark energy in the rest of the frame. "That is _not_ the disguise you went out in."

"It went bad, I made a few adjustments," Jazz said. He didn't move otherwise, except to nudge one shoulder back towards the arm holding the blaster and squirm uncomfortably.

Whiplash scrutinized the kneeling mech before stepping back, his blaster still out. "Okay, why not come in the entrance and explain that? You'd hardly be the first agent to come back looking different."

Jazz turned around, glancing between weapon and himself and back at the hall for a moment. "This was more interesting," he grinned.

"Right," Whiplash glared at him. "Come on then," he motioned down the hall with his weapon. "Time to meet the medic and make sure nothing else got scrambled."

Jazz groaned but followed dutifully. "It should be Ratchet or Wheeljack," he said after a little ways. 

"Why?" Whiplash prodded, now positive that something bigger than a cosmetic edit was going on.

"Wouldja believe I like Ratchet's charming personality?" Jazz asked with a rueful grin.

"Not even remotely," Whiplash snorted through his vents and directed Jazz towards the more used levels where the medbays were. "Real reason."

Jazz sighed. "Once we're in medbay and I'm fueled. I've only got ... 35% right now."

"You burned through a _lot_ of energy," Whiplash hummed. "How much damage have you sustained?"

"None," Jazz said, teeking completely truthful. 

That raised an optic ridge when they entered the lift. He pinged Wheeljack for the physical and Mindguard to ensure that Jazz hadn't been compromised. "Then Wheeljack can check over your frame and get you looking like yourself. Mindguard will still do the psych."

Jazz made a face. "What if I can give you an explanation that explains all of this with no doubts, and then I _don't_ have to go see that piece of work." 

"If you can manage that, you can skip her," Whiplash's curiosity overcame his common sense. It was just too enticing a bet not to make.

"Good," Jazz grumbled, not sounding terribly pleased himself. 

The lift stopped and they made their way down towards the main medbay where Wheeljack was waiting for them, humming to himself. He looked up when the door opened, helm fins lighting up. 

"Who's this now?" he asked cheerfully. 

"Hey, 'Jack," Jazz greeted. 

The inventor cocked his head, then the fins turned a happily surprised bright blue. "That's not what you looked like when you left," he said, patting the berth. Jazz hopped on and Wheeljack started scanning. "You look fine, something go wrong?" 

"I'm fine, I'm just--"

"Scrap me, why didn't you _say_ you were so low!" Wheeljack swatted Jazz around the helm and pulled out a cube. "Drink." 

Jazz obeyed, downing the energon hungrily, then the two cubes after that. 

"35% is not _that_ low," Whiplash grumbled at the inventor-medic. "Why does he insist on you, anyway?"

"'Cause I'm pretty," Wheeljack said merrily, watching his scanner. "There. You gonna stay and watch me reconstruct him, or what?" he asked Whiplash. 

"He's gonna stay and watch, 'Jack," Jazz said, hopping off the berth. 

Wheeljack gave a startled flicker, looking between the two. "Well all right, then. And 35% is low because once he finishes, he's going to be at about that same level again. So if he tried this while at 35%, he'd knock himself into stasis." He looked back at Jazz and his scanner. "The frag were you thinking? You changed everything!" 

"Had to," Jazz grumbled. "They got a full-frame scan of me, that's why I dropped that low."

"This is going to be an interesting report." Whiplash crossed his arms and glared at the pair. He'd have his explanation, or they'd _both_ be getting a visit from Mindguard tonight.

Jazz winced a little, grimacing. "Yeah, it is," he said. "Right, well..." 

Whiplash looked between his agent's expression and Wheeljack's, complete opposites, the former about as unexcited as he could be and the latter practically brimming with anticipation, scowled, and was about to demand that they let him in on whatever the joke was, when Jazz's entire frame _moved._ Plating crumpled and he swore he could see internal systems, and then there was a strange stretching and rearranging motion, something that didn't even look _possible_ , and after a klik, he was staring at ... Jazz. At Praxian Jazz, looking like he'd never even been in disguise in the first place.

He cycled his optics several times and ran all his sensors over it before stepping close to push his field into the mech standing before him. As the shock faded, his processor began to get a giddy tingling from too many ideas and far too much hope. He focused on Wheeljack. "That blocker isn't the only unusual piece of equipment you installed in him, is it?"

" _Installed_ in him!" Wheeljack said. "Pit, I _built_ this mech!"

"My protoform was fine," Jazz said, protesting that point a little. 

"Yeah all right, but I built the rest, me an' Mucit did. It was my idea," he said proudly. "He helped me work out all the kinks and technicalities, and _this_ ," he spread his arms out at Jazz, "Was the glowingly successful test run. Him and Prowl!" 

" _Wheeljack!_ "

"That was my next question anyway," Whiplash was twitching with excitement, his processors ready to burst with all he could do with such tech. "So this is how you managed to go undetected for so long. So long as you could get enough energon, you could become anything you wanted. Any _one_ you wanted...."

"We can't mimic," Jazz said. "Not that precisely. We can copy anything we've been before if the specs are still saved, and we can sorcel into any frame type we have the mass and specs for, but the facial plates seem sort of random." 

"Not random!" Wheeljack said excitedly, looking like he was about to burst something. "The base software came with a couple thousand scans of facial plates from different frame types and it takes a random sampling and combines them whenever you're using new specs. It saves anything old. So I guess theoretically you could have them sorcel over and over until they looked like someone--chances are it's _bound_ to happen eventually, though to be honest it might take vorns or more, and--"

"We can't copy," Jazz said, cutting him off.

"What about frame-specific traits, like flight or aquatic, or six wheels?" Whiplash let it go for now. He knew that tone in his agent. _Jazz_ would never accept replacing someone, but it was a software thing. It could be changed with the next install. "Or special equipment. If you took a scan of me, you'd get my whip. Would that turn up if you used the scan?"

"They could do a Seeker or similarly sized Aerial," Wheeljack nodded. "With flight. Six wheels, no, they don't have enough wheel mass set aside, though they could have it installed. Look kinda small for a six-wheeler, though, given their maximum mass. And they definitely couldn't be something like a shuttle, neither has enough subspace mass for that. And--I don't know if the whip would turn up, actually, or even your features, we didn't really get to test, just kind of set them loose. _Did_ you ever use the frame scanning option?" 

Jazz frowned at him. "No," he finally admitted. "We downloaded all of our specs. It was safer that way. By the time we hit Kaon again Prowl knew enough to mix and match or modify them if we needed more. We had a lot of time to build up the collection in Praxus."

Whiplash nodded his acceptance. "Do you still have your original frame specs? The noble."

"I have what was left of that frame after a vorn of it being ripped apart and slapped back together," Jazz said dryly. "But the original..." He sighed. "No. Just external images of that one. Prowl doesn't have his original either, but what he has now is a pretty good approximation."

Whiplash cocked his helm. "Any good frame artist could take those pictures and build specs from them," he suggested with a small smile. "All right, you've convinced me you don't need to see Mindguard tonight. I want a full report, no editing this time, on my desk by noon. Is there anything you that should get in the system now?"

"Mm, nothing that can't wait until noon," Jazz said, stretching out his arms and doorwings. "Need ta talk to Prowler so he knows why you're going to give him that stalking cybercat look you've got on right now the next time you see him." 

Whiplash grinned with a purring engine and deep chuckle. "It does make it much more important to ensure he's well-trained for field work. Much as I love having a tactician of his caliber around, that's an impressive trick. Go on, enjoy your mate. Wheeljack and I have some talking to do."

Wheeljack looked happily surprised, and Jazz hid a smile as he left, almost wanting to stay in order to watch Whiplash be subjected to the inventor-medic's excited ramblings on his creations, but he wanted to go find Prowl more. 

He made his way up to their quarters, distracted as he tried to think how to explain that Whiplash now knew about their sorcelling tech, and he didn't ping before entering, all but skipping in and hoping Prowl was there. The lights were off, but before he could react there was a brush against his field. Tense, then relieved then angry.

"Dammit Jazz, I almost _shot_ you!" Prowl snapped as the lights came up, but his field and frame as he grabbed his mate were only relieved and welcoming.

Jazz held him just as tightly, hands going over his mate's frame a little anxiously, teeking the lingering tension there and feeling it in the cables of his neck and back. "Are you okay, what happened?"

Prowl rested his forehelm against his mate's, their chevrons perfectly aliened. "Whiplash tries to time the training that will leave me like this to when you're away. You weren't expected back so soon. I'm fine, love. Interrogation resistance always leaves me defensive for a few orns."

Jazz winced a little. "Sorry, wasn't thinking--forgot he was doing that." He huffed a small laugh. "Just excited to see you."

"I know, and I like that you are," Prowl gave a faint smile and drew Jazz to the berth. "You aren't damaged, did the mission go that well?"

Jazz groaned faintly. "No. Report's due by noon and I'm actually going to need most'a that time. Went _bad_ , I got scanned, had to sorcel to get past the security. And," he grimaced slightly, "Tried to sneak back in and 'Lash caught me."

Prowl paused, processing all that. "So he knows we can sorcel," he said cautiously.

"Wasn't much getting around it when he saw how many changes I'd made, 'Jack got excited and told him about you," Jazz said, apology in his field. "So don't be worried by the way he's gonna start looking at you. You know that look where you kind of worry you're about ta get eaten."

Prowl couldn't help but chuckle softly. "I am quite familiar with it. Just so long as he doesn't switch me out of tactical, I should be fine. So long as you are all right, we will deal with it."

"He might try ta work you in two specialties, or pull you when it's needed," Jazz said, settling comfortably on his back with Prowl leaning over him. He reached up and brushed his thumb over the center of his mate's chevron and the newly-etched tattoo there. "Never get tired of seeing that," he murmured, tracing the design of their designations, their _real_ designations, entwined with Radiance's. It was a design they'd sketched for themselves in Praxus, not polished like the one they'd worn there, but something they'd created with Radiance to have with them. 

"Neither do I," Prowl smiled warmly and kissed the matching tattoo on his love's chevron center. "It feels good to wear it. Let no one forget what he was to us, and always will be."

Jazz pulled him down for a warm, sweet kiss. "Ours," he whispered.

"Ours," Prowl agreed, melting into the contact as he returned it. 


	43. Joint Mission

Prowl and Jazz exchanged a subtle glance while Whiplash's back was turned on his way to his desk. Neither knew why they were here, and neither liked not knowing. 

"Well," Whiplash said, and handed each a datapad. "We've found ourselves with a unique opportunity to capture some intel that could stop Soundwave's undercovers in their tracks, and if we do it right, even take some of them alive. They've taken three key posts in the last vorn, and each one has lost us territory, and they're going to keep chipping away until they're at our gates unless we do something about it." He fixed them both with a hard look. "If I didn't have you two and your tech, this wouldn't be possible and I would never attempt it. It's a one-time opportunity, and it won't be easy. But there is one major problem."

"Which is?" Prowl prompted quietly, his processors already devouring and analyzing the mission parameters.

"That it requires both of you to work," Whiplash said. 

Confusion flashed through their fields, both of them looking up at him. 

Whiplash looked back steadily. "There is a reason mated pairs do not work in the same units," he said. "The risk of putting the safety of a mate over the good of a mission is high, but you two..." He glanced between them. "You two don't operate quite like most mecha, and I think there is a _chance_ I could trust you not to compromise a mission of this importance, even if it meant the other was lost. But I need _your_ assurance before any of this goes through." 

"Of course we wouldn't," Jazz said. 

"That's nice to hear, but I need to _know_ , and for that, I need _you two_ to know. You're off duty for the next three orns. Talk about it, _know_ , and then let me know."

Prowl nodded, grasping the full tactical importance of what was being asked, and some of the emotional importance. He put a hand on his mate's arm. "We will discuss this, and the mission, and give you an honest answer within three orns."

"Thank you," Whiplash said, nodding back as they stood. "And please don't let the possible benefits of this pressure you into a forced decision in any way, that only sets up for failure at the worst moment." 

"We understand, we won't," Jazz said, hand on Prowl's back, before they left together.

They walked in silence to their quarters, locking the door once they were in, going to their berth. Prowl immediately drew Jazz close and brushed his fingers over the hardline port they hadn't needed to use for safety in the hundred and thirty-nine vorns since they joined the Autobots, but it still gave them the strongest sense of security and intimacy.

Jazz x-vented heavily. ~So could I let ya die for the sake of this intel.~

~Or worse, could you allow me to be captured, or leave not knowing my fate, if you had the data?~ Prowl rested their forehelms together, calm, centered, but not yet sure of his answer.

~For something like this,~ Jazz mused. ~For knowing how much this would hurt Megatron ... I don't know if I could do it for you, I know I would _want_ you to do it for me. Even not knowing. Even if it meant going to _him_.~

Prowl quivered. ~We cannot accept this mission unless we are both absolutely positive that we could leave the other behind, dead, prisoner or unknown, if we had the data. I am not ready to say I would. I'm not ready to commit this much to a mission I have not fully processed the odds for.~

Jazz nodded and pulled him into a kiss. ~We have time.~ 

* * *

"Mmm," Jazz hummed, running his hands down his frame and settling them suggestively between his thighs as he tilted his head back over the edge of the berth, looking upside down at his mate who was leaning against the wall, head cocked and watching him with an almost amused smile. "How long was I offline?"

"Four and a half kliks," Prowl told him, and as fond as the look was, it also spoke that his mate was fully with him again. For more than two orns while they recharged, talked and interfaced, Prowl _thought_. He was finally done thinking and he was all there, all for Jazz.

Jazz grinned. "Not too bad." He sat up and turned, back resting against the wall their berth was against, and crooked a finger for Prowl to join him, first kissing him and then snuggling against his side. "We should actually talk about this now, I think."

"I believe it is worth it at an 81.9% probability of success," Prowl murmured as he drew his mate close. "I could, and would, leave you behind, deactivated, captured or unknown, if it means getting the data to Whiplash." He leaned down to kiss Jazz's chevron tattoo. "Then I would return for you, if I was not sure you were deactivated."

"But if it was less than that," Jazz said. "If stopping to help me meant certainty of losing the data, and continuing only had the slightest chance of success..." He reached up, hand pressed warmly against his lover's face. "Prowl, I want you to _always_ put the good of what we're doing over mine. Doesn't matter about chances."

"I know, love." Prowl x-vented deeply. "The mission comes first. The odds, however, will always matter. If stopping to help you improves the odds of success, I will follow my tactical coding."

"Well, since havin' me around _always_ improves the odds of success, shouldn't be a problem," Jazz grinned, nuzzling him, then sighed. "Leavin' you behind, though, that's something else entirely."

"Love, the same rules _must_ apply to me," Prowl said firmly.

"I know," Jazz murmured, helms together and visor dimmed. "If ... five kliks from now, we were attacked, and you were killed ... if _this_ ..." He pressed a soft kiss, easy and familiar and chaste, "Was the last time we touched ... could you accept that?"

"Yes. I have no fear of what comes next. Whether it is Radiance or oblivion, I look forward to it," Prowl murmured before kissing him in reply. "Can you?"

"Yes," Jazz said easily. "I have no regrets about the choices I've made, I ... I would _welcome_ an end. If you felt the same ... I could leave you. I _would_ leave you."

"If I am gone, I am gone," Prowl tipped his lover's face up to look him in the visor. "I accepted my end in the grotto, my love. While I treasure every moment with you, I have no attachment left for my frame."

Jazz nodded once, looking back. "I would miss you," he whispered. "And I'm not even saying I would be all right ... but I could keep fighting. Knowing there will be an end to all of it, if I just wait long enough." His vents hitched slightly. "We're already on so much borrowed time. If there had been a break, when Radiance died, I wouldn't have fought it. I'd have gone with him."

"We both would have, and been grateful to go," Prowl agreed. "That was not to be our fate. So we continue until our time is finally up."

"Love you," Jazz murmured, slipping into another kiss. "No matter how or when this all ends, or how much it hurts first, we've known ecstasy, and it's enough."

"Agreed," Prowl smiled faintly as the kiss parted. He gently pressed his mate down on the berth and covered him, his field warm with the gentle arousal of being calm and settled and together.

"Should we go talk to Whiplash?" Jazz asked, nuzzling. 

"We still have time," Prowl said, and kissed him. 

* * *

They'd gotten in, gotten out with the data, had enough energon in their subspace for two more cosmetic shifts or one more full frame shift each, but on the way out they'd heard a report of an unknown transport unit being shot down just outside the city limits. 

_Their_ transport. 

They crouched together in the shadows on the outskirts of the city, watching for signs that the stolen data had been discovered. 

~We can still make it to the rendezvous, see if the pilot survived,~ Jazz said. ~If not, shift to flight frames and try to get back, or if he did, make our way to the closest unit and shelter with them.~

Prowl shook his helm. ~Trying to reach the rendezvous or crash sight now decreases our probability of success by 23.1%. The Cons will be looking for us both places. Any mission worth promising to leave you behind is not worth risking over a pilot.~

Jazz nodded and then peered over the scrap pile they were crouching behind for a moment before ducking back down. He pulled up their most recent maps marking the distribution of Autobot forces around Cybertron, skimming over it to find the unit that would likely be closest to them now, out on the front lines near what had once been Tyger Pax. ~There--we can make it to that one. Just gotta avoid scavengers and Cons along the way.~

~We're good at both,~ Prowl gave his love an encouraging nudge and they unplugged to start moving.

* * *

The territory between the Autobot and Decepticon front lines was barren and hazardous. Endless hics that had once been smooth roads were bombed, torn up, everything around them devastated to make traversing the land by pede as difficult as possible, and there was no talk of trying to drive, not over this. 

Scavengers had laid waste to any resources left, making the land as dry as it was desolate. They were both operating on the highest efficiency mode possible for their frame types, which robbed overall strength, but would keep them walking longer. Much, much longer.

Of course, as a pair, they had always been ruthlessly determined to survive, and something like a long walk with no available energon wasn't going to stop them. Not when they could coax the energon to come to them instead. One of them feigning injury and waiting long enough always brought a scavenger around, and those were easily killed with a blaster shot through the processor. Most had barely any fuel in their lines, but it was enough for them to conserve their own resources in case of emergency. 

They'd made it to what should have been the Autobot front lines, but it was as barren as anything else they'd seen so far, with no sign of a unit. 

"I keep thinking we'll just stumble across a cache of jet fuel and be able to fly out of here," Jazz muttered, crouched down and trying to figure out if the unit had been killed or simply moved on. Sending out a comm from out here was too dangerous, there was no way to tell who would pick it up, so all they could do was listen for chatter to work out who was where. For the most part even that was quiet.

"That would be nice," Prowl agreed as he stood and began moving again. "Based on unit movements, they are most likely this way."

Jazz nodded in agreement and followed his mate as they made their way along roads that were still in better repair but still not safe enough to drive over. They moved quieter now than they had in the wastelands; Decepticon troops were just as likely to be out here as Autobots, looking for weaknesses in the perimeter and ways to get large numbers of troops in and fast-tracked to Iacon. 

"I'm bored," Jazz whispered a joor later. 

"Unfortunately here is not the time or place to cure that," Prowl gave him a light chuckle.

Jazz gave a dramatic sigh as they made their way over the hill formed out of a collapsed building, now following clear markers of where other mecha had climbed before then, and once over the top, immediately ducked back down, an automatic reaction to seeing movement.

After a few kliks, they cautiously lifted their helms back up and over, looking down at a battle taking place between clearly marked Autobot and Decepticon troops. 

"Small troop, stealth mission," Jazz murmured, pointing to the dozen or so Cons, then focused on the Autobots. "...They look like they're doing fine without our help." 

"Then we let them continue to do fine unless they need us sniping," Prowl said simply. "Put your insignia back on. We'll be contacting that unit when this is settled."

Jazz nodded and sorcelled out the single chest plate along with Prowl and settled in, leaning against Prowl and watching the battle unfold. Two in particular stood out, a brightly colored pair that moved flawlessly together, clearly warriors to the spark. 

"Wouldn't like go up against them," Jazz said. "Poor 'Cons." 

"Glad they're Autobots. Most sparked warriors went Con," Prowl mused, following the action and absently predicting what various mecha would do. "The last government was not kind to them."

Jazz hummed, still focused primarily on the single pair that seemed to be doing more than half the work for their team. "They fight like Gladiators," he murmured several kliks later as the last Decepticon went down, a short but vicious skirmish. They rose slowly, trying to keep their movements smooth, but a nanoklik later they were the target of several dozen long-ranged blasters. 

They stood the rest of the way, hands in the air, and were gestured to walk down, the weapons never lifting.

"Lt. Steamroller," Prowl spoke when they were in audio range once he confirmed the visual identity against his records. "We are Autobots. We need to return to Iacon ASAP."

The unit's commander frowned, still targeting them. "Well we'd all like to return to Iacon, wouldn't we. We're not due to rotate back for a couple vorns, but you could probably hitch a ride with the next supply caravan, due to come through next metacycle. Assuming you check out. Unit and designations?" 

"I'm Jazz, he's Prowl," Jazz said, keeping his hands up. "Special Operations. We got stranded in Kaon." 

Steamroller grunted. "I'll see if I can get in contact with command to verify, could take a few breems, signal gets a bit fuzzy over the hardlines. Until then you can stay here. Sunstreaker!" he snapped. "Stop gawking and watch 'em 'til I'm back."

Prowl's gaze snapped to the mech, one of two that wore the same stunned expression, and he knew his own wasn't much less shocked. "Sideswipe?" He asked, hesitatingly, of the pair that came forward. They were the brightly colored warriors, one red, one yellow, that had stolen their attention so effectively in the battle.

Sideswipe nodded, gaze flickering to Jazz for a moment before fixing back on Prowl. "You're ... _alive_ ," he finally said. 

"As are you," Prowl couldn't help the joy the briefly flickered up from his slagged creator protocols. "Such fine warriors."

"You four know each other?" Steamroller glared at the group.

"I wouldn't really call it that," Sunstreaker growled, shifting his weight to be in front of his twin, before getting a sharp elbow in his side. "Hey!" 

Sideswipe glared at him in silence for a few moments before they turned back in unison. "Yeah, kinda," he said. "Long time ago." 

Steamroller just looked between the two pairs. "...Right. Just make sure they don't try anything before I get back."

"No problem," Sunstreaker rumbled, and no one doubted that he meant it. Steamroller nodded and stalked off. 

Prowl watched his go before turning his full attention towards the pair. "How did you join the Autobots?"

"Someone made a good pitch for it," Sideswipe said, frowning. "Seemed like a better gig than where we were at, anyway." 

"Where was that?" Jazz asked quietly. "We looked for you." 

"Oh that's comforting to know," Sunstreaker said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry," Prowl said softly.

Sunstreaker snorted and looked away, and the flinch in Prowl's frame was visible. Jazz slid an arm onto his mate's back, glaring at the yellow mech. 

Sideswipe looked uneasily between twin and creators, then offered Prowl a bit of a smile. "Well ... we're all here now, right? Small planet, and all? If you hitch back with the caravan you'll be here a few orns, we could, er, talk?"

"I'd like that," Prowl managed a smile even as his processors worked furiously for a way that Whiplash _didn't_ know that his creations were alive and Autobots.

Sideswipe's own smile brightened hopefully as Steamroller came back. He looked at Jazz and Prowl, then nodded. 

"Your pings match the serials they sent over, so that clears you. They're going to send a transport unit as soon as possible for you two, guess you've been missing or something." 

"Or something," Jazz agreed. 

"Camp's pretty slapdash out here," Steamroller said. "Recharge wherever you can find, rations are given out at the start of each orn, though if you have your own that'd be even better."

"Thank you. We're well-accustomed to recharging where we can, when we can. For energon, we have a few sips between us. Enough for the rest of the orn, but not much past that," Prowl said honestly. The truth was it was enough, if they pushed it, for several orns. Very hungry orns, low on energy and looking for a scavenger to drain, but they'd survived on that much before.

Steamroller nodded. It was what he expected, to be honest. If they'd been stranded in Kaon, it was to their credit that they weren't on fumes enough for a special draw. "Since you seem to know the twins, stick with them. Sideswipe's the friendly one, if you hadn't already worked that out."

Prowl nodded his understanding and they fell in with their creations on the short trek back to a camp that was barely discernible from the environment.

"Are skirmishes like that normal?" Jazz asked after a little ways, and then a startled flicker went through his field when after a few moments, neither one of them answered him. 

"This is our spot," Sideswipe said abruptly as they stopped, and he kicked at a pounded-out piece of sheet metal. "We all rotate through watch and if someone spots anything they send a signal and everyone goes. Got patrol up and down for about ten hics, we're spread thin, but it's enough to get anywhere needed."

"Does Steamroller want us to patrol with you?" Prowl asked.

"Doubt he cares," Sunstreaker grunted as he sat down, eying the pair. "Stay here, follow us, frag off, whatever." 

"Sunny," Sideswipe said with forced cheerfulness. "Remember that 'polite' thing they taught us about in rehab?"

"Don't call me Sunny!" the yellow warrior snarled at his twin.

Prowl risked stepping closer and reached out to put a hand on Sideswipe's shoulder, every movement carefully telegraphed to not startle. Sideswipe tensed visibly and even flinched a little, but didn't move more than that as plating came in contact and Prowl's field slid against his, expressing the Praxian's joy at finding them, grief that it took so long and spark-deep apology that he hadn't found them himself.

"You both have enough reason to be angry," Prowl said quietly. "My best was not enough."

"Whatever," Sunstreaker muttered. "Far as I'm concerned you're just two more mechs to sparkling sit, don't really care what you think beyond that so long as you don't get us killed."

Sideswipe huffed, giving his twin a hard look before giving Prowl the same small smile as before. "Wasn't your fault," he offered. "What happened to us."

"Thank you," Prowl murmured, honestly grateful for the words even though he could teek that Sideswipe was still struggling with _feeling_ it. "Will you tell me about your lives?"

"Ha," Sunstreaker said and leaned back. "You mean the part where we lived in a cage except when we were fighting for our lives, or the part where we lived in a cage except when we were being whored out _and_ fighting for our lives?"

" _Sunny,_ " Sideswipe hissed.

"Both," Prowl said honestly, regretting that it was the truth. He still wanted to know what his creations had gone through. All five he now knew had either deactivated young and without a creation or had been brutalized by existence as badly as he had been.

His answer surprised both twins and they looked at him, startled, before glancing at each other, not bothering to hide that they were discussing how much they felt like recounting. 

"Yeah all right," Sideswipe finally said, settling down next to Sunstreaker. "Grab whatever you can find to sit on--or don't, doesn't really matter." 

They watched silently while their creators joined them on the ground, Sunstreaker's gaze never leaving Jazz. "You want to hear all this too?" he asked abruptly. "Since it actually _is_ your fault?" 

Jazz stiffened, field going abruptly flat and drawing in tight, making it nearly impossible to teek. "I'll go somewhere else if it makes you more comfortable," he said, voice empty. Prowl's hand went to Jazz's leg, trying to sooth but well aware that he couldn't.

"Would you have preferred to deactivate with Praxus, and Radiance?" Prowl asked the twins quietly, calmly, a genuine question. He didn't know if the pair knew enough to hear what Radiance had become in the designation, but he gave it anyway.

"He deactivated?" Sideswipe asked. "I'm sorry. I remember him ... I loved when he visited. When both of you visited," he added for Prowl, who flickered his field in thanks for the grief and knowledge that his appearances were desired.

"He was a good mech," Prowl smiled sadly.

Sunstreaker looked at Jazz. "Don't care if you stay or not. And no saying we wouldn't have survived," he added. "We're good at that." 

"I can see that," Prowl agreed, torn between proud and grieving that it was something they even knew. He squeezed his hand on Jazz's leg and quietly offered a hardline from his wrist. "Your next older brother survived as well."

Jazz accepted the hardline gratefully while they cocked their heads at Prowl. 

"I didn't know we had one of those," Sideswipe said. 

"We don't really know _anything_ about them, Sides," Sunstreaker said. 

"We ... I ... planned to tell you a great deal once you were mechlings, and more when you got your final frames," Prowl x-vented quietly. "I carried three creations. Two are confirmed deactivated. The third I met not long after we joined the Autobots. Smokescreen also, understandably, hates me."

~It is _not_ understandable that he hates you,~ Jazz said as the twins echoed the designation in surprise.

~It is, at least to me. He suffered greatly for being my creation,~ Prowl told him.

"Smokescreen broke us out and convinced us to turn Autobot," Sideswipe said. 

"That fragger," Sunstreaker muttered fondly. "Betcha he realized." 

"It is quite possible," Prowl said, adding that tidbit to his file on Smokescreen. "He has not mentioned it around me. Though it would not surprise me if he did not want me to know that you made it."

"Sounds like you've done pretty awesome at this creator thing," Sunstreaker said, not at all kindly. 

Jazz gave a deep, warning growl of his engines that was immediately returned by the yellow twin, and the tension between them skyrocketed. 

"Settle," Prowl told his mate firmly. "He is correct. They are the best I ever did, ever tried to do. You know how well it turned out. Left with a stranger, kidnapped into the fighting pits and I didn't stop it. Any of it."

"And _none_ of it was your fault," Jazz said, optics still on Sunstreaker, who glared back at him. 

"It's true, you know it is," Sideswipe told his twin quietly. "Nothing that happened to us was his fault." 

"He wore himself completely down looking for you and only stopped when I made him because your trail was gone, and he still kept looking every way he could," Jazz said. "If you're going to be angry at one of us, be angry at _me._ " 

"This isn't an either or kind of thing," Sunstreaker said nastily.

"Enough, both of you," Prowl rumbled. "Nothing went right. Everyone was hurt. If Sunstreaker needs to hate me to deal with it, I accept that. I did not do well as a creator. I have accepted that." He quieted and focused on Sideswipe. "I'd still like to hear what happened to you."

"Sure, yeah," Sideswipe said easily. "And don't be offended--Sunny's cheeriest isn't even very different from this." 

Sunstreaker's engine grumbled at his twin, but it was lacking force and just got a grin in return before Sideswipe started in on the long, difficult story of what their lives had been. Both warriors were surprised at how respectful Prowl was as an audience, attentive and quiet, and then they were grateful, because the story they told never got easier. 

But someone, for once, was listening. 

* * *

As thinly spread as they were, patrol was done by individuals instead of teams, and the twins were no exception. Sideswipe's rotation came up halfway through the night, to be immediately followed by Sunstreaker's, and the red twin stood with an exaggerated stretch.

"Goin' on a walk," he said, blaster in hand and resting against his shoulder as he looked at the other three. "Who wants to come."

"I will," Prowl gently untangled himself from his mate and stood, his frame otherwise silent even though he'd turned off stealth mode when they'd shown themselves to the Autobots.

Sideswipe nodded in approval, then fixed his twin with a hard look and shook the blaster at him. "Behave," he said sternly, got a growl in response, and then grinned as Sunstreaker suddenly looked very startled, but the growl quieted and the glare, while still present, was more for show than anything. 

Jazz reached up to squeeze Prowl's hand and found it squeezed back with a flare of love, support and reassurance across their fields. "I'll come find you if the transport shows up." 

Sideswipe gave him an odd look. "I'm sure he can find his way back." 

"I'm sure he can, but how's he going to know?" Jazz said. "Non-emergency comms aren't allowed out here, if I'm not mistaken." 

Sunstreaker lifted his head. "What, you can't just..." He gestured between himself and Sideswipe, from his chest.

"We can't bond," Prowl said, willing to leave it at that. "Though Sunstreaker could pass it to Sideswipe, who can tell me on the chance I don't see the shuttle come in."

Sideswipe nodded, eying his twin, who just rolled his optics and shook his head. "Might have to come find us, anyway," he said, shrugged, and headed off, trusting Prowl to follow without instruction. 

Patrol consisted of walking the same quarter-hic line up and down the current borders, wide, well-worn pathways that had been cleared of tripping hazard, though Sideswipe cautioned Prowl not to drive on them. 

"Landmine right below your undercarriage will do a lot more damage than one below your pede," he explained. 

"Are they typically manufactured or IEDs?" Prowl asked, his voice low, just loud enough to be heard.

"Haven't found a manufactured one in a while," Sideswipe said, with approval in his subharmonics for the question. "They're thrown together with whatever scrap parts the Cons can find out there..." He gestured aimlessly towards the wastelands. "We sweep whenever we move to a new area, because sometimes one can sneak in unnoticed during rotation and lay a few, but every once in a while..." He kicked the side of the pathway with a look that said he was almost daring it to explode on him. Nothing happened and he shrugged, continuing on.

They walked in silence for a little ways, Sideswipe holding his weapon loosely at his side, occasionally hitting various pieces of scrap metal with it in a completely unprofessional and unsafe manner that made Prowl cringe internally, but he kept his silence. 

"So here's what I've always wondered," Sideswipe said suddenly. "Who was the 'bad mech?' That's mostly what I remember, that we were hiding from him."

"Vortex," Prowl surprised himself by how easily it came out.

Sideswipe stopped and looked at him, frowning. "Really rich fragger, thinks everyone should worship the ground he walks on, bought his way into power?"

"Yes, that rotor," Prowl nodded. "He's a very possessive, sick sadist as well."

"Sadist is right," Sideswipe snorted. "Worst 'face ever. Twisted up in the processor, that one. How'd you frag _him_ off?"

Prowl hesitated, drew himself steady, and faced his adult creation even as his tanks churned at the idea of Vortex with the twins. "He owned Jazz, and Jazz loved me. It was inexcusable. He had us for a vorn before we escaped."

Sideswipe frowned. "But why would he care about ... unless by own you mean..." He trailed off, listening to something. "Oh. ... _Oh_. You mean _owned_ Jazz, like ... not like a servant. Like a bonded. Seriously?"

Prowl nodded, trying not to shiver at the memories that still haunted him on occasion. "Jazz's creators sold him to Vortex, untouched and barely in his adult frame. I was a servant. When Vortex found out Jazz was carrying twins, he intended to use one of you to teach the other how to be like he was. It was too much. The escape plans weren't ready, but we had to get out to protect you both."

"Which is why you always made us hide what we were," Sideswipe murmured, looking out at the wastelands as they walked. "Damn. The number of times he was around us after we got into the top rings..." He shook his head, then shot Prowl a grin. "You sparked up a noble, rock on!"

"Vortex still believes that Jazz and his twins are _his_ ," Prowl warned cautiously. "If he ever works out who your carrier is, he'll hunt you as much as he's hunting us."

Sideswipe made a dismissive noise. "I'd seriously like to see him try, we could take him. Plus with the planet the way it is now, he's going to have a seriously hard time finding us."

"I hope to see him deactivated and gray before that changes," Prowl growled, his reserved manner truly breaking for the first time with a flare of hate so intense he was a match for Sunstreaker. "To show him how well we learned from his lessons."

Sideswipe gave his sire an impressed look at the tone. "Could mistake you for Sunny, there," he said, grinning. "Didn't think you had that in you."

Prowl gave him a grin that had no place on a sane mech. "The only difference is my anger is focused on a target rather than the world in general. I'll get even, eventually. I just have to _catch_ him."

Unlike most mecha who had ever had that grin turned on them, Sideswipe just mirrored it back. "You don't seem so bad, Prowl," he said.

Back at the makeshift camp, though, the mood was less cheerful as creator and creation sat across from each other, separated by the sheet metal berth, doing their best not to engage. It was Sunstreaker who broke the silence first.

"Why haven't you killed him yet?"

Jazz lifted his head. "Who?" 

Sunstreaker was scowling at him. "Vortex." 

Jazz shuddered at the designation, not quite expecting it and not prepared to hear it coming from his creation. The display of weakness got him a sneer. "We weren't strong enough to take him on for a long time, and then the planet the way it is..." He waved a hand. "And we don't want to just kill him, it'd be done by now if that were the case. We want to hurt him before he goes."

"So you hide and skulk around for centuries instead of getting it done," Sunstreaker huffed at him. "Prowl's ready. Why aren't you?"

Jazz's visor flashed. "I've been ready since the night I met him," he said coldly.

"No you aren't," Sunstreaker challenged him. "If you _wanted_ to be rid of him, if bonding to Prowl was _worth_ it to you, he'd be long scrapped. You want vengeance more than you want to be free, so you aren't ready."

Jazz hissed and his armor gave a warning rattle. "We both want vengeance, that was the choice we made."

"So what progress have you made in _over twenty-three hundred vorns?_ " Sunstreaker snarled as he pushed into Jazz's personal space, his field electric with anger and aggression that was directing itself towards the SpecOps mech. "None, that's what."

"I made a _life_ ," Jazz snarled back, tensing up and claws digging into the ground. "I fell in _love_ and had a home. Protecting _that_ was more important to me than instant gratification. Is that all you can see, the moment and thing right in front of you? Are you the same way, grab it and to Pit with the consequences if it's something you want?"

"What better way to protect than to eliminate the threat?" Sunstreaker got right in his faceplates, itching for a fight, to vent some of his pain on this mech that had been the very first to hurt him.

"And risk getting killed in the process," Jazz growled. "Would you even take Sideswipe into account or is it just the _kill_ you're really after?" 

"To protect him? I'll do anything," Sunstreaker gave Jazz a hard shove and kept close, pressing into the smaller mech's space. "We take a risk getting blown to pieces with every step we take. Every battle is another good chance one of us bites it. The only promise in existence is that it will end."

Jazz backed up, armor tight to his protoform and clicking aggressively as he started to size up the opponent that had always represented just _one_ thing to him. "You protected him from threats that didn't exist, you thought he _belonged_ to you," a low, anticipatory growl before Jazz shoved back, drawing on all the hidden strength in his frame. "You were _just like him!_ "

The odd twists and curls in the growled glyphs were lost on the former gladiator that had yet to really leave that part of his existence behind. Faced with yelling and accusations that made no sense, he fell back on his most solid training and attacked.

The first punch came out of nowhere for Jazz and cracked against his faceplates with the full strength of a well-upgraded and enraged warframe. Jazz slammed back into the scrap pile and twisted away before the next punch could land, grabbing the arm and using the leverage to swing around, shooting both pedes up and into Sunstreaker's chest.

Sunstreaker grabbed the smaller frame and threw it down in the next moment and Jazz clawed across his face, getting an enraged howl that carried across the camp, reaching even the patrolling pair that had by now turned around to rewalk the distance.

Sideswipe groaned and reached up to dry wash his face. "Damn it, Sunny," he muttered, then saw the confused look Prowl was giving him. "How well can Jazz handle himself in a fight?"

Prowl sighed and shook his helm, already understanding what was going on and moving a little quicker. "Very well. Though he's partial to fighting dirty and he'll kill your brother if pressed."

"Yeah, well, I'd say the same of Sunny so let's just hope they're evenly matched." Sideswipe whistled sharply, two notes, and after a few kliks another war frame was joining them. "Calling in my favor," the red twin told him. "Rest of my patrol, three joors." 

"You have rotten timing," the other growled at him, but obediently pulled his blaster out and waved him on. "Three more cubes for no warning." 

"One," Sideswipe countered. "Stuff ain't cheap _or_ easy." 

He got a laugh. "Sides, mech, it's two or nothing." 

"Fine, two, but it won't be ready for another decaorn," Sideswipe said. The mech nodded and Sideswipe gestured with his head for Prowl to follow, moving away from the line now. Prowl moved silently and as swiftly as his patrol partner until they got to camp and joined the mecha watching their best fighter scrape with a smaller mech that fought at least as dirty and just as savagely.

"I say we let them sort this out unless one is about to be maimed," Prowl suggested.

Sideswipe nodded, his expression as he watched the pair guarded but dark. "At least neither of them are pulling weapons," he said, then shook his head as Jazz got the apparent upper hand. "Sunny misread him--he'll catch up and change tactics in a klik to counter that strategy, watch," he told Prowl.

"If Jazz hasn't gone for a weapon and kill yet, he likely won't," Prowl added, watching and calculating every move either made. "At least some of him knows who he's fighting."

Sideswipe nodded, and then the pride that brimmed through in his field as Sunstreaker gathered himself, made some rapid calculations about his opponent, and shifted his weight in a flawless and almost invisible change in strategy was unmistakable. 

Jazz didn't see the shift, and the next flurry of movement had the smaller mech forced into a hard defense. A flurry of snarls, claws, lunges and strikes and just a few furious kliks later, Sunstreaker slammed Jazz into the ground, knee across his abdomen, wrists in a crushing grip, legs trapped. 

Jazz thrashed, snarled, claws still out and frame shaking with the rush of the short fight, and he spat a violent, Kaon-dialect curse up at his opponent.

"Slag," Prowl hissed sharply and moved forward. "Deal with your brother," he ordered Sideswipe. Despite what he'd just witnessed he showed no fear of getting close to Sunstreaker. It was something that even most of the frontliner's unit-mates would have been wary of.

Sideswipe gave Prowl a sharp, startled look but moments later Sunstreaker tensed and froze, optics brightening but not moving away from his pin. Another moment and he growled, but the sound wasn't directed at Jazz, and then his gaze went to Prowl, silently judging the threat level, and then his twin, and then his grip loosened slightly. 

It was enough for Jazz to pull his hands free and he was holding a blaster within nanokliks, the sharp whine of it powering up and filling the air. 

Sunstreaker shouted a curse and grabbed for it as Prowl reached them. Prowl let the frontliner deal with the weapon while he got a hardline plugged into Jazz and went to work with grim efficiency at hacking the mech's processor to break him out of his glitch-induced hallucination. Jazz fought it, at first--threw up firewall after firewall against the intruder, but Prowl shattered them ruthlessly until he reached the innermost data cores, took over control of the frame, and forced a hard reboot. 

Sunstreaker looked startled as Jazz went limp, leaving him holding the blaster, which he quickly disarmed and set aside, but didn't move beyond that, too wary of letting go of the pin on a mech that had moments ago been a very real threat. 

Sideswipe was there a moment later, kneeling down to partially shield his sire from the silent stares surrounding them. "We've seen that before, haven't we," he said in a low voice as Jazz began to boot back up, a statement more than a question.

"Yes," Prowl said softly. "He'll no longer be a threat when he boots. He'll know who we are again."

Sunstreaker stared at him, his scowl deepening. "Who did he think we were?"

"Vortex," Prowl murmured, keeping a careful hold on his mate's processors as Jazz began to regain consciousness.

The twins glanced at each other, startled again by that answer. "What--us _specifically_ or does he just randomly think _any_ mech is that piece of slag? We don't _look_ like him," Sunstreaker said. 

Beneath them, there was the briefest flare of alarm followed by _fight_ before Jazz realized who was buried that deep into his data cores and he relaxed, immediately at ease. He glanced around briefly, took stock of the way Sunstreaker had him pinned, and waited for the memory set from prior to the forced reboot to settle back in and sync up. ~Ah, slaggit,~ he said.

~Yes. Fortunately Sideswipe and I were close enough to return and stop things before you shot him. We have some explaining to do, I believe.~ Prowl said with a mixture of gentle and informative. "You are the only ones I know trigger it. Once each now. Did Sideswipe pass on what I told him?" ~Should I tell them _he_ is their spark sire? They are smart. They are likely to work it out. Eventually.~

Sunstreaker nodded as Jazz thought, looking between the twins--his _creations_ \--and then at the surrounding audience. ~If we do, it should be somewhere more private,~ he said, then looked back at Sunstreaker with something almost like pride. ~I bet if we asked, he could make them clear out. He seems to be the unofficial boss out here.~

"If possible, we should speak somewhere more private," Prowl looked at Sunstreaker. "Sideswipe did not hear it all."

Sunstreaker frowned at him for a moment, looked down at Jazz and gave a clear warning growl of his engines and vocalizer, with all the dominant subharmonics of the victor in their match. He released the pin, satisfied when Jazz neither tensed nor tried to move. He and his twin stood up and turned glares all around at their watchers.

The crowd immediately started to thin, and the few who didn't leave right away vanished as soon as Sideswipe hefted his blaster up and Sunstreaker growled a low, "Get lost."

They complied quickly.

"I didn't knock up a noble," Prowl said quietly as he helped Jazz stand, still hardlined and watching his mate's processors carefully. There was no telling what this was going to do to his stability.

The twins stared at him. 

"Wha--oh," Sunstreaker said, and then in unison with his brother, " _Oh._ "

"Oh, _damn,_ " Sideswipe said after another few moments. "No wonder he wanted you dead. _Frag._ " 

Sunstreaker was starting to feel over the gouges in his facial plating, very evidently disturbed by them, and he just shook his head in disgust. "That explains _so many things._ "

"Such as?" Prowl asked curiously.

"Like why Sides has an obnoxious obsession with flying, for one," Sunstreaker snorted, and got punched in the arm. "And why _you_ were so fragged up and hated us so much," he growled at Jazz. 

"That's true," Jazz said, voice flat. "I tried to love you. I wanted to."

"We had to block the bond with Vortex, and thus his creator bond with you. It allowed the glitch to take hold. If he could have still felt you, it wouldn't have had a chance. It would have been no different than when he was still carrying you."

Jazz shuddered, not enjoying the memories of carrying and the painful conflict it brought up in him.

"If it's a glitch..." Sideswipe said, cautiously, "Can it be fixed? I assume you never had it looked at before when you were hiding, and then we weren't there and it didn't matter, but..." He trailed off on an odd, hopeful note. 

Sunstreaker snarled at him. " _We don't care_ if he wants to kill us or not!" he snapped. "We are _not_ going down that road!"

~It's your choice, love.~ Prowl told him, but hardlined as they were it was impossible to hide the creator coding rearing its influence even when Prowl knew it should have gone dormant ages ago.

~I'm going to ask Ratchet to look at it,~ Jazz said. ~No lost memories to repair--it isn't worth that, but there are many, many ways in which it's a positive to not glitch-hallucinate him when I'm seeing fellow Autobots, which is exactly what they are.~

"Ratchet will look into it when we return," Prowl answered Sideswipe. "At least I would like to keep in contact, such as the war allows."

Sideswipe brightened and Sunstreaker huffed, then looked at his twin with a sudden, sharp look. "Who's covering your patrol?" 

"Chainlink," Sideswipe said easily. 

"Ugh," Sunstreaker said, and he had pulled a cloth and polish from his subspace and settled down on the ground, already starting to go over his arms. 

"...You carry polish with you?" Jazz asked.

"Of course. I have to keep up appearances," the bright yellow warrior glared.

"Never mind him. He's got his own glitches," Sideswipe rolled his optics. "Hasn't quite caught on to the fact we aren't in the arena anymore."

Jazz nodded--they'd spent enough time in Kaon to become more familiar with the Gladiator culture than they would have liked--hesitated, and sat down next to him, silently holding out his own polish, a higher grade than the one Sunstreaker was using.

It got the warrior's attention instantly, as well as Sideswipe's, though for very different reasons.

"What do you want?" Sunstreaker growled with pure suspicion.

~It's an apology gift you glitch,~ Sideswipe hissed at him.

"Don't take handouts," Sunstreaker muttered. 

"So trade me," Jazz said. 

Sunstreaker looked him up and down, this time taking in his frame with more detail, and very clearly judging him for its state. "You certainly don't look like you've been using it," he said disdainfully. 

"Yeah, well, I've been eating scavengers in the wasteland, had no one to look pretty for," Jazz said, quirking a grin.

Prowl huffed and glared, but it was painfully obvious as an act and Sideswipe held back a snicker.

"What do you want in trade?" Sunstreaker asked again, still too wary for his own good.

"Could gimmie yours," Jazz said, gesturing to Sunstreaker's polish. "Or whatever."

The wary look didn't fade, but a bit of prodding from Sideswipe had him handing over his mostly-used container and trying to not show how eager he was for the higher grade tin.

Prowl settled next to his mate while Sunstreaker went to work and watched the process calm the warrior in a way he recognized very well. "I hope knowing doesn't change your view of the war," he murmured, a statement more than a question. Even if it did, he didn't want them to tell him. He didn't want to _know_ and have to respond.

Sunstreaker snorted. "What--you think we're going to have some kind of sudden creator loyalty? After you two? Please." 

"I was thinking more that you wouldn't want to side with us," Prowl said quietly.

Sideswipe glared at Sunstreaker. "What my dumbaft brother meant to say was, no, this doesn't change our view of the war. Autobots keep us in fuel and as free as service allows, Decepticons ... were unsavory company."

"That they are," Jazz gave an uneasy but honest smirk. "They make good targets though, and easy prey."

The twins both hummed and looked up with identical, vicious grins, more than a little reminiscent of the one Jazz liked to wear.

"That's the first thing you've said that hasn't been total slag," Sunstreaker said. 

Jazz nodded, satisfied with that, and settled comfortably against Prowl, and they all sat quietly for a while. Sunstreaker continued to work on his armor, now with a small hand-held dent-popper, going over the places Jazz had struck the hardest. 

"Were you involved as a sire at all?" Sideswipe asked suddenly, looking at Prowl.

Jazz smirked.

Prowl chuckled and gave him a look that spoke of just how lustful the pair could be. "Oh yes. Once we escaped, about a metacycle after kindling. I helped with the protoform construction a great deal."

"And coding, no doubt," Sunstreaker grunted. "Medics were always saying how bizarre our coding is." 

"A top grade seneschal siring for a second creation noble carrying on first creation protocols," Jazz said. "I have no doubt your coding is bizarre." 

"And then add in what twin coding did to that mangled mess," Prowl nodded, then glanced up and focused for a long klik. "I think our ride is here."

Both twins twisted around, looking incredulously up into the sky. "They sent a high speed shuttle for you?" Sunstreaker exclaimed, while Sideswipe turned to give Prowl an impressed look. 

"They don't sent just anyone to deep cover in Kaon," Jazz said, focusing in on the distant shuttle's approach for a moment before looking back at the twins. "Kind of like how they don't send just anyone to guard the front lines." 

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe glanced at each other. "Well, yeah, they kind of do," Sideswipe said, grinning. "But thanks for sayin' it."

Prowl stood and looked at them. "Do you like it our here, with few rules?"

"Pit yes," Sideswipe said, with Sunstreaker's simultaneous, "Frag rules."

Prowl chuckled. "Glad you like where you ended up, no matter how you got here."

"You too," Sideswipe said, and leaned against his twin, immediately getting shoved back off.

"We'll ... check in?" Jazz asked, hesitantly. 

"Sure, whatever," Sunstreaker grunted, otherwise ignoring them. 

Jazz nodded once, brushing a pleased flare against Prowl's field. There was work-- _centuries_ of work after that much pain and more--but this was a start.

With that, they moved to meet up with Steamroller for their shuttle.


	44. Hard Choices

Jazz waited in line for his ornly ration, barely a quarter cube of thin, low grade energon that was laced with enough chemicals to give those drinking it the impression that they were more fueled than they were, helping to stave off theft. Those chemicals would rot the systems of anyone who lived off the stuff for too long, and every drop that Jazz consumed was run through every filter he had installed before it ever hit his tanks.

"Desta," the overseer rumbled when it was his turn and Jazz walked up, cube in hand. The ration was dispensed and Jazz gave the mech a suggestive wink before walking away, sipping as he went. He'd long ago become numb to the taste and no longer grimaced every time he drank, but refueling was never pleasant in the Neutral refugee camp. 

Mecha from all over the planet were here, one of the smaller camps on the outskirts of what had once been Simfur. Jazz was here for observation and intel, on an assignment that was set to last another several vorns. His next checkpoint was in two vorns, he would have contact from Iacon, send on his intelligence, and receive any adjustments to his orders then. 

Until then, he was a Neutral with Con leanings, just trying to survive as much as the rest of them, with an up close and personal view of the Decepticon army that passed through from time to time. He worked for his keep as a night guard, one with just the most basic training they'd been able to give in an orn. His primary objective was to observe and map all flight in the area, to get a clearer picture of Decepticon supply routes. So his optics were focused up at the sky as he drank, seeing what no one else saw, and then he was looking at a sight that still made his lines run cold.

A dark, metallic cloud on the horizon, one flashing from within with light, and the low, thundering roar came over them moments later. 

Seekers.

A massed army of Seekers, so much like what had hit Praxus that he had a moment of disorientation as to where and when he was.

Wherever they were going was about to be leveled.

He wasn't the only one noticing them, now, and murmurs were starting to spread and grow in volume as mecha stopped what they were doing to look towards the darkening sky. 

They began to pass over, and there was a collective x-vent of relief, before a solid third of the fliers broke away, doubled back, and within what felt like kliks, the camp had been surrounded.

Jazz knew what was going on before anyone else and he bolted for cover. His systems could survive on the weak energon better than most, but that didn't mean he was even remotely well fueled. His reserve tank had enough energon for a single full-frame shift, held there unless it would drop him into stasis not to consume it. If he had to fight, his cover was broken. It was better to hide. He could leave a message if following or capture was in his cards.

The first klik was going to be the most telling and he huddled down out of visual range, listening with full attention to the blaster shots and screams, counting them, comparing them against the number he'd seen land, and the amount of mecha here. He had a Seeker frame type queued up if he heard enough shots to indicate a slaughter. He couldn't blend in with them for long, but he could get away. 

But he didn't hear enough. They weren't here to kill, they were here to _take_. Protocol was to first and foremost keep his cover, then stay alive, and beyond that, the choices were up to his discretion. He listened. 

The first round of intimidation shots over, frames fell to the ground and heavy pede-steps stomped forward. 

"We're looking for _volunteers_ ," came the sneer. "It is recommended for your personal health that you come quietly." A few moments of silence, and then a growled order, "Round 'em up." 

Blaster fire, screams, running pede falls suddenly surrounded him and Jazz cursed silently, crouched down. He could get captured, that was fine, but he needed to know where they were going to take him first. He dared a glance out, found the insignia on what looked like the Captain's front, and ducked back, starting a message. 

Not fast enough, though, because a hand grabbed him out and hauled him forward, throwing him down onto the ground. "Trying to hide?" the Seeker hissed, and the muzzle was against his helm. 

"N-nah!" Jazz stammered. "Ah's jus' wait'n see, jus' so's Ah know's safe!"

But the blaster wasn't lifting, and the Seeker's teek was a touch too vicious.

"We want them functional, Downdraft," someone snarled, causing the Seeker to scowl harder even as he began to haul Jazz towards the group being guarded.

In the palm of one hand, as best as he could while being pushed and shoved, he was etching a short series of glyphs into a piece of scrap metal that was tagged with a short-range tracer. It would take an Autobot with the correct equipment to find it, but they wouldn't find it until they were on site. 

Audials strained to take everything in, and when he heard location of a prison camp, he etched that in along with an extraction date, set for two vorns from now. 

He dropped it onto the ground before being shoved into the rest of the huddled group, crouching down and waiting while the rest were rounded up. 

The last straggler was dragged, kicking and screaming, and the Captain grabbed him by the wrist and sent a round of blaster fire right into the mech's face. 

Jazz cringed, the frame went limp and was dropped. 

"So don't ever be last," the Captain sneered. "Get them going!"

* * *

The outing was unusual, and a risky one, but Prowl was too wound up not to be sent. So he and Whiplash, neither looking at all like themselves, were on the ground with a handful of others scouring the remains of a Neutral camp for any sign of their missing agent. They looked like a typical Autobot party sent to investigate the attack, but not even their shuttle was what it seemed. Flamespire was arguably one of the most deadly things in the air on the Autobot side, with the possible exception of Dogfight, and just as fast as the crazy Seeker.

Autobot surveillance in this area was next to nothing, with only what they gathered from their ground agents every few metacycles to serve as updates, and it hadn't been until this particular agent's checkpoint had come up and been missed that they had put this party together. 

Where a thriving--as much as could be given the resources--refugee camp had stood less than three vorns ago, now rested a picked-over, deserted site. 

"Scrappit," Whiplash grumbled, kicking at the remnants of another frame, picked clean of everything useful, no way to identify who it had been. He glared at nothing in particular, watching his scanner as he walked, and then finally-- _finally_ \--found the signal of the short range tracer Jazz would have known to drop. ::Over here,:: he commed to Prowl, following the signal and digging up the discarded bit of scrap. 

They read it together and a huge coil of tension dissipated from them both. Jazz had survived the attack. They knew here he was going and when he wanted to be broken out.

"He's gotten better," Prowl's tone was both relieved and proud of his mate.

"He has incredible focus when he actually sets himself to it," Whiplash agreed. "It's the getting him to care that's the trick. Fraggit, though," he sighed, voice weary. "We could really use what he's been gathering." He looked at the camp location for a few moments, thinking, then shook his head. "Need to get someone in there, can you work something up based on what we have on this one?" 

"Affirmative," Prowl nodded. "Myself, or another agent?"

"Whatever gives you the highest chance of success," Whiplash said. "I trust you not to compromise for his sake."

"With how little we know of what he might look or sound like, I have the best probability of finding him, getting the intel he has and getting out," Prowl said after a moment. He was the only one who knew Jazz's field intimately enough that it didn't matter what the frame looked like.

Whiplash nodded. "We need to finish combing the site. I want your outline by then."

* * *

Three orns later Prowl was wearing the frame of a mid-sized grounder. Unremarkable for a Decepticon but not too generic; he wasn't trying to pass for a factory model. He was still and silent, going over every scrap of his created identity as Flamespire set down far enough away from the prison that Prowl's drive in was believable. A lowly guard in a minor prison work camp wouldn't have rated a transport, which made it that much easier for Prowl to get in.

"Good hunting," Flamespire said in parting.

"Clear skies," Prowl replied before transforming and driving to the prison camp, a place that was more a mine than prison. It was just how the labor was sourced that made it a prison. It was five joors after he reached the road that the compound came into view. A half joor past that the first checkpoint stopped him with raised weapons.

"Designation and files," a guard snapped, looked him up and down as he transformed back into root mode. "You that transfer?"

"Gradient." He showed his transfer orders, but didn't let them actually take the form. It was his only proof.

Fortunately, the mech didn't seem interested in more than a glance and he waved Prowl past without trying to take anything from him. "Go right to the warden, he'll put you on your rotation and get you bunked. Hope you ain't expecting privacy."

Prowl snorted, expressing how little he thought of privacy, and went to the warden's office as directed. As a Decepticon, he had legal access to the facility map, and used that access to test his codes without suspicion. 

Shift rotation, bunk assignment, rules and regulations--such as they were--were all growled to him from across the desk, datapads were swapped, and Prowl was abruptly shoved out to begin his first duty shift.

He found himself down in the mid-level mines, watching the forced laborers work away at the unforgiving interior of the planet, scrounging for resources. He was armed immediately with a whip, given no instruction, and told to hit anyone not working up to standard. 

What "standard" meant was not explained. Prowl, true to his persona of Gradient, didn't ask and didn't much care. He was given free reign for violence, and presumably other abuses, so long as the mine produced. By the time his shift was over the crew he was guarding knew he was free with the whip, an abusive vocalizer and could be bribed to an extent by a good overload. The tricky part was that he took whatever mech was nearby when the whipping got him charged up enough to want a valve, so he didn't give much opportunity to offer. 

The only good part for the slave labor was that he didn't seem inclined to kill. For many, that seemed more than enough to redeem him, no matter the other abuses.

"Yer gon' get along jes fine," a fellow guard growled to him at shift change. "C'mon, we all get together fer rations."

Prowl nodded, curled his whip up with a move that spoke of having used one many times before and hooked it on his hip while he followed. "So far it's fun."

A rumbled chuckle answered him. "Glad y'think so. Better'n that last one yer 'placin, he wouldn' have none 't. Tell me, y'ever played with a brand new mechling 'fore?"

Dark red optics flared with a rumble of unmistakable desire. "Not in far too long."

"Oh yeah," the mech grinned. "Yer gon' get along _jes_ fine." 

* * *

It wasn't long after being at the camp that Prowl learned about a tunnel collapse a vorn prior, when he found the tunnel on his outdated schematics for the mine, and also learned that the newest batch of laborers had been almost entirely crushed in it. There had been three survivors, all of whom he'd previously teeked and spoken to, and the deactivated frames, at least those they'd been able to recover, had been melted down for parts and scrap.

The timing range matched the group Jazz had been captured with, but there was no telling where they came from. There had been several raids in the last few vorns, all of which had resulted in captured mecha. Decepticons kept miserable records on their prisoners, a fact that Prowl and Ops in general had used to their advantage often, but it did make tracking down a given prisoner much more difficult.

That annoyance drove Prowl to grab one of the slaves that wasn't in his group as they passed and buried himself in the terrified frame and dry valve until he felt better. Then he dropped the mech, not caring that he'd made him late and he would now be beaten. Gradient was a primitive sort, short on processor power, violent and often ruled by his interface array. Even though Prowl was still there, guiding things in the background, _Gradient_ was primarily in control.

Three metacycles passed in similar fashion as Prowl scoured the camp beneath Gradient, using the artificial construct's penchant for spike overloads to seek out anything familiar, but every teek and frame came up with nothing. Even accounting for the fact that Jazz was capable of altering the feel of his teek, Prowl knew that spark rhythm so well that no amount of disguise could hide it, and he wasn't bothering to change his. No one here knew _Prowl_ , but if Jazz was hiding amongst the prisoners, he would know him immediately. 

Three metacycles, and _nothing_. His pickup was scheduled for one more decaorn, and his transfer notice had already been sent through. 

Gradient mourned the loss of his best job ever, but Prowl was looking forward to it. From the moment he'd been sure Jazz wasn't here he'd wanted out, desperately. The sooner he was gone, the sooner an Autobot force could take this place and possibly find records he couldn't without breaking into something that might expose him. By the time he was three joors out from the prison camp on his way to his next assignment Gradient had been packed away and Prowl was fully in charge. Two more joors and he turned off what passed for a road in these parts and headed overland to meet up with Flamespire.

He was waiting at the exact coordinates chosen for the pickup, engines still hot from the flight over. "Anything?" the intimidating Shuttle asked once Prowl was inside. 

"He isn't there. I got enough to make a raid go smoothly," Prowl replied grimly.

A rev of understanding from the powerful jet engines was Prowl's only offered consolation.

* * *

A decaorn after returning to Iacon and the full SpecOps report on the camp later, and Prowl couldn't find it in himself to object to the lack of shift work or orders. Working would have helped him become functional much more quickly, but the grief had claimed him before he could explain that. With grief came apathy. Apathy led him deep into his processors where better times were stored, including the game that had never been turned off, not once, since Radiance's deactivation. Distantly, he knew that his need to _serve_ would drive him back to the real world, but for now he was willing to indulge himself in the self-destructive behavior.

A ping drew his slow to respond and sluggish attention away from the game and the endless memory loop of his favorite dance from all the times Jazz had performed for him as a mechling and he looked at it briefly, seeing a summons to the Prime's chambers.

The Prime's ... _chambers._ Not his office? 

His office was on the way, regardless, Prowl could check to see if it was an error. Slowly he roused himself, hearing old reprimands from his lost mates about how he wasn't designed to sit still for so long and how he always forgot to stretch or even refuel, and made his way up from the SpecOps base to the commander center where the Prime resided when he was in residence.

A check in at the office told him that no, the message hadn't been in error. So bewildered, dull, scuffed, low on energy and still a bit stiff, he made his way to the Prime's quarters. He had to use the base map. This wasn't a place he had any reason to know about. Still he pinged for admittance when he arrived, too dazed to have thought much about why he had been called here, much less worry about it.

"Prowl, you are as prompt as ever," came the Prime's warm voice as the door opened for him and he entered, the rumbling tones soothing for that moment while he spoke. "Thank you for coming." 

Optimus's chambers were nowhere near as grand and elegant as those that previous Primes had lived in, but they were still luxurious to the least extent appropriate for the Matrix bearer. Prowl could see him past the antechamber in what looked like a small sitting room, waiting with two cubes of energon on the table before him. 

"I was summoned," Prowl couldn't hide his confusion as he walked into the sitting room.

"You were _requested_ ," Optimus said, optics warmly exasperated above his battle mask. "You are always free to question or defer a personal invitation. Though, I suppose," he sat down in the lounge that was designed for his size, gesturing for Prowl to do the same, "Knowing you would do neither makes it a summons."

Prowl's features showed his confusion as he reviewed the exact wording before simply admitting that the Prime was most likely correct. No matter how it was phrased, he would perceive it as a summons. Especially with how worn down he was and operating on little more than base coding.

Optimus watched the blank, empty face for a few moments, then sighed heavily. "How are you coping?"

The question, like all which came from a Lord, was given as much consideration as possible. Unlike many Lords, however, the Prime was given the truth. "I would say that I am not coping at all."

The cube was pushed towards him. "Drink that, you haven't been refueling, I suspect. How have you been passing the time?"

Prowl drank on command, not even registering what he was consuming until after it was down. "Memories, and a courting gift from Radiance." Pain lashed at him, and he didn't hide it. Losing his third still hurt, even when Jazz was there to help sooth it. With Jazz gone, he was struggling to remember why he remained in his frame, other than a near-inability to quit.

The Prime just watched sadly, teeking so gently that Prowl could barely feel the brush of the other mech's field. When the cube was lowered, Optimus leaned forward across the table and pressed his fingers to Prowl's chest, right over his spark. "Your frame cages you," he murmured, with a gaze that felt like it was looking right into his crystal. "Coding is preventing you from really feeling the grief as it should be experienced."

"It has always been so," Prowl answered softly, almost leaning into the touch. "I am still a seneschal. Bred and engineered to withstand loss." His vents suddenly hitched at the truth that hit him as hard as a tank. His code had been warped enough that it was now only partially truth. He was broken. No longer a true seneschal, but still too much of one to be free. He'd never desired to be free of it.

The pain of that loss nearly doubled him over.

_Serve_

It was all he'd ever wanted. All he had ever done. Now processors too sharp and warped fixated on that truth and what he still had left to serve: his mate's, his _Lord's_ final wish.

It was time to kill and then let go. To finally, _finally_ let go.

"Prowl," Optimus said softly, voice cutting through the jumbled pain-grief. "There is still a way to serve, you can serve _me._ "

Ice blue optics, even paler than usual, lifted to regard the Prime. Despite what Optimus was expecting, there was no wariness there, only the grief of fresh loss compounding old grief by tearing off the scars that kept it at bay.

"To begin again," Prowl murmured, more to himself than the Prime. "Do you know what you are offering?"

"I'm trying to offer healing, and maybe an eventual peace through having a new function," Optimus said. "I would ... I would like to offer something now, to help with the pain. The old pain, I'm afraid I can't help with the new, that will take time."

Prowl found himself chasing hope around his processors and spark, tying to catch and crush it before it destroyed him. The Prime's words helped that a great deal. This wasn't beginning again. If Prime could help him _think_ , to get back to work... "Understood, and I accept."

Optimus nodded and stood, drawing Prowl with him. "I would wait until you know what you are accepting. Come with me," he murmured, and led Prowl through his chambers, back into the deepest, nestled room, one with a grand berth in the middle. "I thought ... this might be more comfortable," he said, one warm hand on Prowl's back. "You can say no, this is a _request_."

"If this can put some of the loss to rest, I accept," Prowl repeated, sure of that much. He didn't know exactly what form of interfacing the Prime was proposing, nor how it could help, but he had long ago lost any association with any act as one reserved for his mates.

Large, strong hands lifted him effortlessly and carried him to the berth, laying him down on his back before the Prime moved over, running fingers down the seam in the center of his chest. "I would know your spark once more," he murmured. 

The armor unlocked immediately, parting with no reservation or fear. On a level Prowl was eager for it, eager to share once more, to be that close to another spark. That, perhaps, there might be someone to grieve for him and remember his triad when he was gone.

A smile warmed the Prime's field. "Exquisite," he said, as his own soothing blue spark was revealed, brilliant flecks of flashing gold deep within the crystal chamber. He gathered Prowl into his arms and let the seeking tendrils of his essence caress Prowl's, and the merge shifted forward naturally. There was no lust behind that spark, no craving and not even really _love_ , not as Prowl had always known this act when it was with a chosen lover. There was only deep affection and caring, and strength. 

Prowl accepted it all. He didn't know what to expect, exactly, but he knew it wouldn't be like with Radiance or Susurrus, and he rather hoped it would be better than the breeding merges he'd endured.

That thought was a mistake the moment it happened and Prowl recognized it. With Radiance's deactivation he'd scrapped the locks on his kindling protocols. Now old desires roared to life on recognizing the quality of the spark whose tendrils danced with his. Even at his best he couldn't stop it on his own, and right now apathy and grief had robbed him of much of his will.

~Shh,~ the Prime calmed the desires with less than a whisper and a brush, and suddenly that instinct, one of his primary functions in life, to _create_ , was gone. 

But no, he realized, not gone, it was ... _aside_. Held carefully aside, cradled and cared for, but separate, kept there by the spark touching his. 

~Is kindling what _you_ want in this moment?~ the Prime asked. ~What your spark truly wants, without the confines of your coding?~

~No.~ Prowl's answer was simple, clean, empty of need even as he offered up everything he was, everything he knew to this spark that could tame what he couldn't. ~I/it wishes to rest.~

~I can free you,~ Optimus murmured, just as simple, and while there was sadness there, it was not for the thought of Prowl's spark leaving his frame but rather for the life that had led any one of his people to wish for that kind of rest before its time, with so much strength and life left to give. ~If you have no more desire to _Serve_ , if you want to escape this frame and leave this world, I will free you.~

Prowl's processors drew back from the merge, as did his spark. Not fully, but enough to give him a better sense of _self_ to sort it out. His spark cried for release now that it was on offer. Five creations, a mate, his triad, his function twice, his sanity, his suitability as a carrier by his own standards, his very purpose, all lost. It hardly mattered that three of those creations were still in their frames. The creator bonds had been broken long ago. His spark couldn't take any more.

His processors, his self-awareness, disagreed that there could be no more. They were far more driven to serve, and to serve no matter the pain or personal cost.

As spark and processors wrangled, Optimus had the rare privilege of watching a spark and coding that were in general perfectly in tune sort out what to do. With every passing nanoklik Optimus became more and more aware of just how much Prowl had lost that was harder to put terms to. Corrupted coding, failure, his glitch ... everything his original culture told him meant it was past time to move on.

He had one duty left, one last promise to fulfill.

Could he allow Vortex to win by being the last to give up?

With a quiver Prowl's spark relented. It didn't want to stay, but with promises of not having another to lose, it would see their duty to the end.

Warm, soothing understanding and acceptance of that choice, with the promise that it could be changed at any time greeted him immediately, and there was a subtle shift in space as Optimus gathered him and held. 

~Your grief has been hidden, here, for so long,~ the Prime said, and touched a place so deep in Prowl's spark, a place that had been beaten down over the centuries until it had formed into the dense, agonized cluster that it now was. ~Rotting, like metal kept damp for too long, crumbling into rust. This is what I would like to open. It will be painful.~ The words were simple, but the message behind them was a powerful promise, and warning.

~If it breaks me, let me go,~ was Prowl's only reply. He didn't understand what was going to happen, even as he understood the fundamental results.

~ **So be it** ,~ the Prime whispered in perfect unison with a second voice, and before Prowl could respond to that, he felt a small pull, and then a cut, and then his spark was completely on its own, removed from all but the barest lines of coding that were _Prowl._

Then Optimus reached in and down and even the first touch against that wild, knotted mass of energy and memory was _agonizing_ and it made face, voices, fields flash across his awareness. The Prime moved inwards, pinched, and _pulled_ , undoing the knot at the very center and letting everything spill out in a rushing, consuming flood.

Prowl screamed.

Nothing his frame had endured prepared him for _this_ pain. There was no distraction, no inevitable end, nothing but facing each loss as it came. Some were pains he thought he'd dealt with long ago, like his creator and first lover. Others were ones he still struggled with every orn, like Radiance and his function as a seneschal. Praxus, seeing his second creation's deactivated frame, knowing his first was gone without ever seeing him, the hate his third creation still held for him, all that the twins had suffered rarely crossed his processors but still hurt when they did.

The deepest pain, though, was one was that resisted even the pull that had brought everything else to flood through him. Even in his spark, there was a pain with the designation of Vortex wrapped around it that did not want to explain itself.

Optimus stopped pulling and held Prowl's frame tightly so he wouldn't damage himself or his spark, forcing him immobile even as he tried to thrash with all his strength, and the touch of his spark stayed calm, accepting, endlessly patient and forever loving. He curled around the battered life, ancient beyond its age, and grieved with him. It was the Prime's age, the familiarity of grieving, loss and recovery that Prowl's spark finally noticed through its agony and latched onto. Even without the processors and programming, Prowl craved to _know_. What he could put in context he could deal with.

So the Prime's spark, aided by the Matrix, gave him that expansive context. The Matrix sang of its previous Bearers, how each one changed it, how it grieved the loss of one whom it had become one with even as it embraced its new Bearer for the joy and understanding the new joining would bring. It was not completely applicable to Prowl, yet there was enough there, enough time, enough losses, for the pale blue spark to grasp as a path.

Yet it also carried a dangerous idea, for a mech so inclined towards it, anyway. To soothe the loss with the new.

Prowl's spark nudged at that idea, and colored by its innate nature, it looked to its new Lord and _offered_.

The offering was received with honor, humility, and understanding even as Optimus gently declined. ~I cannot give you what you need, not in such a manner,~ he said, and he spoke Truth. ~Nor could you give the same for me. I would be your commander,~ a mouth pressed to his, warm and chaste, ~Your friend, your Prime. I would know you,~ their sparks flared warmly together. ~No more than that.~

Even though Prowl didn't understand, he accepted. The truth, the rules, were taken in by his spark and stored there. As was his core function, he adapted to whatever rules he was given. He _liked_ it, the knowing. Having a place, a structure to be part of. What part he played mattered much less than having one.

Pain flared up again. The loss of being a seneschal. The loss of being an Enforcer. Twice stripped of his function, his spark had floundered in the centuries after Praxus fell. It curled into Prime's spark, welcoming the warmth and stability there. He needed an anchor. He always had and always would.

In the torrent that was still mostly pain came a moment from the present. Special Operations was not structured enough for him. He was needed there. He liked the work. It gave him access to knowledge few others had. But it lacked structure. Rank was a suggestion for the most part, a fluid thing based on specialty, knowledge and skill level. It strained the seneschal's spark.

But his goal was best served by being there, so he would never complain.

It hurt. It hurt more than Prowl thought anything could, the loss of his first function. He still grasped for it, longed for it, tried to find a way to regain it in a world that no longer had it.

~You have much to give, we will find a way for you to give it,~ Optimus promised him, voice smooth and steady. He gently and quietly refocused Prowl's attention back to the tempest that he was pulling away from, and reached back into his spark, touched that deeply-rooted, coiled pain that still had not released, and gave another pull, testing the strength. ~Be in this moment,~ he murmured, preparing Prowl as best he could for the worst, and at the next pull, stronger than any before, it all loosened and freed, joining with the rest.

Instead of screaming, instead of the fiery pain of the previous losses, this was quiet. It brought a sob, soft and nearly silent, as Prowl's entire universe crumbled around him. The rules he'd abided by his entire existence were thrown in his face. His charge badly damaged. The rules, the social laws that held society in place had been abandoned.

There was physical pain there. Hate flared to life in a way Prowl still did not understand. All that hurt, but the moment was bound so tightly because Prowl could not cope with it. The rules had been abandoned. He still lived. His charge had been punished instead. His spark chased that around as doggedly as his processors had, and to the same inability to accept.

He should have been executed. That was the Law.

His charge should have been immune. That was the Law.

An _oligarch_ had no right to break the Noble Laws.

And because of wealth, because of something so dead and unfeeling as _credits_ no one had stepped in to aid them and put everything to rights. The structured world he'd been bred for, devoted everything he was to, had let him live and let his charge suffer. 

All of it, for _credits_.

Optimus just held him as he cried, waiting what felt like an endless amount of time in the full merge, as close and curled around Prowl as he could be. Not trying to protect, just trying to help him through the wretched moments of grief. 

~Love and its loss must be felt in equal measure,~ Optimus said as Prowl's awareness began to settle, and for the first time, the Praxian caught a glimpse of how much control it was taking for the Prime to hold the merge this steady for this long. ~You have known pure, ecstatic love and joy. This is your consequence.~

That was something Prowl could understand. Maybe not accept, not fully, but he could understand.

As strained as he was, his spark reached out to the Prime's and stroked it suggestively, offering pleasure in thanks for the understanding.

A shiver from above, a stroke in return. ~Only if the desire is mutual.~

~Yes,~ Prowl's voice was soft, a purr that left no doubt that he desired the overload, and to know it was shared. It wasn't love, it wasn't base lust, but somewhere in between where shared pleasure was an act of alliance, of caring.

Optimus stroked over, around, through his spark in a gentle touch backed by _strength_ , searching through everything he'd brought up, running a cooling salve over the still-raw wounds. ~The hurting is not over,~ Optimus told him. ~It will take time to settle. I will see you through the worst orns when I can.~ Soft, wanting tendrils danced over Prowl's. ~Feel with me,~ the Prime whispered, and let go of his control, and his spark pulsed bright, touching every part of Prowl.

The Praxian moaned and gave himself as completely to this as he did to his mate. It was not the surrender he gave those who had a right to him, but a welcoming, pulsing, stroking embrace he gave those he cared about, reserved for those few who had worked their way into his spark.

Optimus moaned, realizing the gift he was being given, accepting and cherishing it as much as he cherished Prowl's trust. Ricocheting waves of energy danced and swirled between them, each feeding off the other, growing, blinding, until the two sparks trembled together, squirming to touch and be touched, almost painfully sensitized after being merged for so long. 

~Beautiful creation,~ came the Prime's deep rumble from the panting frame. ~Thank you!~

Energy spilled forward, filling Prowl's open chest, rushing against his crystal as the Prime shook in overload. It was far more than any mech could have resisted, and Prowl had no desire to try. He keened his pleasure, his spark pulsing and flaring in answering bliss that contained the soothing comfort of one he trusted. No, the pain and grieving wasn't over, but he was no longer alone.

He could do this.

It was the last sensation to pass between the sparks before Prowl dropped offline.

The next thing he felt as he booted, still merged, was Optimus's reassuring and steady presence. ~Are you ready to return to your frame fully?~ he asked.

~If I must,~ Prowl nuzzled into the comforting warmth. He was ready, though, at least as much as he would ever be.

Optimus chuckled deeply. ~Unfortunately yes,~ he said, and began carefully lowering down the partitions he had placed, separating spark from frame, which had allowed the grieving to begin. 

The two halves of the whole that was Prowl went together easily, well-suited for each other and with no hesitation, and the last flickering tendrils of their sparks disconnected before chests were sealed firmly back up. Optimus lowered himself carefully, drawing Prowl into his arms and against his chest, holding. "It is late," he murmured. 

"I may stay?" Prowl relaxed into the warm, comforting embrace. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to feel wanted and protected, even if just this night.

"Mm, please," Optimus rumbled with a smile clear through his voice and field as they both settled in for recharge.

* * *

Optimus began to boot with a deep purr already thrumming up from deep within his chassis, warm with the hazy remnants of the pleasure from the previous evening and with the soft, skilled press of lips on his spike cover. He reached down to stroke Prowl's helm. "So I suppose I don't have to ask how you are feeling this morning," he said with a smile, but it was still a question in the subharmonics. 

"Shaky, but revved up enough to want to play," Prowl pressed into the stroking hand as his field curled around Optimus's with a friendly affection that could so easily become a twisted devotion if the Prime nudged the grieving mech that way. "Never have been inclined to deny it when a partner is willing."

"Neither have I," Optimus agreed with a soft moan, tracing the Praxian's chevron, making sure to brush his thumb over the center where he knew Prowl still displayed the woven design of his mates' designations with his. Prowl pressed into that touch, grief and loss flaring at the reminder of his triad, but it did little to hamper his arousal or the trace of his glossa along the panel's seam to Optimus's approving moan and a subtle shift up of his hips. "Pleasure is too precious a thing in our world anymore." He settled his processors from the boot sequence and was firmly, decidedly _Optimus_ once he had finished. To warp this mech into the fanatical devotion he was capable of and prone to, especially to the Prime, was something he wanted to avoid.

"Yes, you are good at that," he said with a sighing x-vent when the cover drew away, and enjoyed the pleased flare in Prowl's field just as much as, if not more than, the knowing strokes and touches.

"I've had a great deal of practice," Prowl's engine purred at the compliment while his lips played at the spike housing as wide as his wrist. The anticipation of feeling a spike _that_ different from what he was used to stroked his arousal and pushed that arousal against the mech he was teasing.

Optimus groaned deeply and the thick, rounded tip of his spike began to poke out as both hands now settled on Prowl, gripping and loosening in time to his licks. The Praxian began to hum, tuning his engine to amplify the vibration and slid his lips down around the large head. It was almost too large for him to take. It had been ages since he'd pleasured a mecha this large, and he was enjoying it far more this time.

His glossa circled the thick, rounded head, learning each node as he found it to be able to use it again. Some made Optimus moan, others made his hips jerk up, and he worked his way down along the shaft as it emerged, blue and red alternating rings leading down the silver base, ridges that made his valve clench just to imagine. He did his best to take the entire length down his intake as he continued to hum and found it easier than he expected to accommodate the girth when he was relaxed and more than willing.

"Prowl," Optimus murmured, legs splayed out, head thrown back. "I'd like to hold you."

Gradually Prowl lifted his helm, drawing off the glistening spike to climb forward for a kiss that was pure heat.

"I'd rather you held me down to spread me that wide," Prowl rumbled, deep and seductive and very much genuine.

In answer Optimus rolled, moving Prowl easily onto his back and settling over him, his size and mass covering him from the rest of the world. The kiss was returned and hands that could nearly wrap around Prowl's waist began to wander and explore, stroking the loose plating, dipping his fingers along the seams. "I won't hurt you?" he asked.

"No," Prowl promised with a wanton moan, his cover sliding open to expose the slick, relaxed, but eager valve as he spread his legs and curled them around the outside of his Prime's. It felt so _good_ to be under the Prime, covered and shielded. He had no idea why, and he didn't care to work it out. Now was for feeling good. Analyzing came later. "Praxians are built to take two."

Optimus nodded, mouth pressed to Prowl's neck for a moment, licking the cables and enjoying the moaning squirms it elicited as much as the Praxian was enjoying giving them. Eventually he shifted up and curled on arm under Prowl's shoulders, the other hand going to Prowl's hip to help lift and brace as he settled between the spread legs. 

The first nudging push made them both groan from the stretch and squeeze as the tip pierced into the slick darkness, Optimus moving as slowly as he was able, giving the Praxian time to adjust. He could feel and teek that Prowl hadn't exaggerated. Even though it had been many hundreds of vorns since he'd had a third, his valve easily relaxed and calipers spiraled wide to accommodate him. There was no pain, not even that of growing accustomed to such a wide stretch. All that rolled off Prowl was waves of pleasure and the desire for more.

Optimus gladly obliged, pushing slowly, still careful no matter how easily he could feel himself slipping in, until he was seated fully inside, feeling Prowl trembling around and under him. He curled, pushing the Praxian's legs up and back with his thighs, cradling his helm in one hand as he began the slow, torturous pull back out. It gave them both time to become accustomed to the new frames and movements, the way their equipment slid together. 

His field was deep and soothing, ripples of pleasure over the ocean that was this Prime's capacity to love his fellow mecha, a teek that held strength, determination, and the promise to protect. He backed that promise with his frame, holding and shielding even as he pleasured with slow, deep strokes. Though he made no demand of it, no actual expectation that the mech beneath him do anything more than enjoy, he felt Prowl's reply in a field that settled quickly, adapting to the slow pace easily, welcoming it where most would want a hard pounding to blind their processors. So soon after such a deep healing merge it was pure instinct for Optimus to know and give what was needed, even when the mecha in question couldn't have articulated that need.

With Prowl, the deep calm and centered nature of his spark rose to bathe in that ocean and offer its own strength to the vastness. Smooth and willing, he rippled the calipers of his valve and rippled the lining around each frictionless stroke. It wasn't the simple squeeze and release that most knew and were happy with. For the mech that had done so much for him, he turned nearly his entire attention to his valve and eking out every last bit of pleasure for them both. 

"Optimus." The designation came out a pleasured sigh, and an intentional indicator that Prowl knew he was with the mech, not the Prime.

"Prowl," was his warm answer, gratitude and pleasure wrapped up together in the single glyph as Optimus continued to rock, his full focus on enjoying the gift he was both giving and being given. Slow, careful, steady and sure, Optimus moved, a blissful wash of motion input lighting up their sensory nets with each touch and slide. " _Prowl._ "

His lover was hungry for it, but to be stretched so wide after so long with a normal spike, Prowl could only tremble and keen as he gripped Optimus's arms. His optics white and unseeing, mouth open and helm thrown back, he was a vision of absolute surrender to the bliss. It was a truth his field backed up even as his frame continued to work his lover's.

The energy crackling around them only added to the dance and the sharp bolts of pleasure that had turned their ocean of peace and acceptance into a maelstrom of pleasure-need, something that not even Optimus could resist after holding himself in check for so long. The pace was slowly increasing, his hold on the Praxian tightening, each drive into the cycling, pleasuring valve just that much harder, until Optimus was all but holding Prowl to his chest as he rocked above him, moaning from his chassis. 

He never lost himself, not in that complete, driving way that Prowl's lovers always had, staying always focused on the true goal of bringing pleasure to this spark. That Prowl was making that self-appointed task all the more enjoyable was just extra, it was the Praxian's bliss that Optimus sought. "May I fill you?" he asked, a low, gasping request.

"Yes _please!_ " Prowl howled, past coherent but always attuned to his lover enough to respond even in the grip of his burgeoning overload.

Optimus let go, falling with Prowl into that craved moment of ecstasy and union as he spilled into his lover, charged fluid that some among their species even considered as holy, serving in this moment to heighten the bliss of another. 

Optimus could think of no more sacred cause than that, shaking in pleasure, feeling it returned just as strong from Prowl's field and feeling the rippling spasms of his valve for himself. 

"Beautiful," he gasped as soon as he could speak, cradling Prowl in his arms, supporting his frame entirely. Prowl's final gift when he regained some control of his frame was of trust. He relaxed in Optimus's arms and slowly caressed those strong limbs.

"Thank you," Prowl whispered in reply, a soft smile on his face and ice blue optics watching hazily.

Optimus lowered him gently to the berth, settling there, pressing a kiss to the top of his helm. "You are welcome," he murmured.

Prowl's stroking touches were affectionate, but his field was steady. He was a friend, intimate with Optimus, but not his lover. "When are you due somewhere?"

"Later this orn," Optimus said, enjoying the closeness. "I believe you will be getting a summons--an _actual_ summons--around the same time."

Prowl's curiosity was peeked and he teeked clearly of it, but his intent was elsewhere at the moment. "Then we have some time to indulge a little more," he purred and shifted to claim a kiss, soft and gentle. "I would like to find out how well I have learned to use my magnets."

Optimus's deep, rumbling chuckle was thrilling to hear.

* * *

Prowl felt sated on a level that he'd rarely experienced since the loss of his third. He wasn't terribly pleased with the summons when it arrived, but pure habitual obedience roused him from the strong embrace of the mech who was also his Prime.

"Whiplash wants me in SpecOps Medical," he murmured an apology, not trying to hide anything, from his reluctance to leave to how emotionally drained he was.

Optimus nuzzled him and carefully sat up, bringing Prowl with, and let his hand slide down to the center of his back, warm and supporting. "How are you feeling?"

"Drained, numb, better," Prowl leaned into the touch with a caress of his field and small flare of desire to snuggle again. "Do you know why they've called me while I'm on grief leave?"

"I do," Optimus murmured, and his other hand came to Prowl's front, pressing over his spark, and sighed heavily. "You might not be able to feel it clearly, but you are still very raw from our merge. I helped where I could, the rest takes time. I could not do much for the newest loss, that still too strong. Be gentle with yourself, Prowl. Take the time to figure out what _you_ want. And," his field warmed in a smile, "Do not hesitate to call on me. Even for conversation, I would very much enjoy that."

"I will remember," Prowl promised, relaxing in the touch as he could with few others. As much as the thought hurt, as ridiculous as it was, he couldn't stop himself from asking if Optimus Prime was the beginning of a new triad in the privacy of his processors even as he dismissed it as ludicrous. He didn't want to leave the touch. Badly didn't want to leave it. Yet duty called and he could no more ignore that than he could have ignored Jazz. So reluctantly he pulled a cloth from subspace and began making himself presentable enough to be seen in the halls.

* * *

Ratchet whirled around from where he had been glaring at Wheeljack, who was cowering slightly, and turned the full force of that same glare on Whiplash. "You already commed him?! We are not done discussing this!"

"He was expecting it," Whiplash replied blandly. "I've already cleared this with Prime."

" _He is still in grief leave!_ " Ratchet roared. "And you sure as _Pit_ didn't clear it with me!"

"He's my agent," Whiplash countered. "I didn't even need to bring this to you. You're only here because Wheeljack wanted you in on the install if Prowl agrees."

Ratchet turned his glower on Wheeljack again. "I am not through with you, _why_ you built that thing for this maniacal little terror is still beyond me." 

Wheeljack winced. "But Ratch..."

One _look_ shut him back up. 

Ratchet turned back to Whiplash. "That mech has emotional protocols that are fragged beyond belief, self-written hacks that are almost beyond _my_ ability to understand, and is potentially suicidal! You have _no idea_ what this install will do to him! _I_ have no idea what this install will do to him!"

"I am not suicidal," Prowl said quietly, interrupting the rant and startling Ratchet. "There is a difference between seeking death and being apathetic towards life. What is to be installed?"

"No," Ratchet growled, deep and deadly. "You are on grief leave. You are not competent to make major decisions."

Prowl regarded him for a moment before focusing on Wheeljack. "What did you create for me?"

The inventor brightened. "An expansion on your tactical system; a true internal tac-net. You'll have the tactical abilities of a full command center all in your frame."

"And the potential drawbacks?" Prowl continued calmly, deflating Wheeljack somewhat.

The inventor hummed. "Well, I'm probably going to have to disable, maybe remove the sorcelling systems. The tac-net will push your systems to the limit. I don't think you'll have anything left over to run much else."

"Which potentially means _anything_ ," Ratchet said. "And there's no way to tell, it could severely impact your quality of life!"

"He'll have full mobility!" Wheeljack objected sharply. "He'll be able to think on his own."

"Vortex _severely_ impacted my quality of life. Megatron _severely_ impacted my quality of life," Prowl suddenly rounded on the medic, his doorwings flared in an open threat. "This, whatever this is, won't qualify for me."

Ratchet didn't even so much as twitch. "Healing," he said. "Recovery. Friendships. Emotions. _Relationships._ There is _no telling_ how this will affect those! It's completely untested, it might very well turn you into a walking tactical computer with nothing left over!" He huffed, then softened slightly. "And it's your choice. _But not while you're on grief leave._ " He rounded on Whiplash. "And that is _my_ call to make."

"I've lost my triad, my city, my function _twice_ ," Prowl said quietly. "I've failed at the only goals I've set myself. You seem to be under the impression that I want to go through it again."

"No, I--no," Ratchet said, sighing. "I _want_ you to have a high quality of life and the potential for recovery and a future, but ... with our planet the way it is..." He shook his head. "So I have to settle for wanting you to fully understand the risks and what you could lose." He turned a glare on Whiplash. "And I want you to _not_ make the decision while you are affected by recent trauma." 

"If our planet wasn't like this, we would have gladly extinguished with Radiance," Prowl said simply. "Recovery has not been a goal since his deactivation. As for your authority, I will study the specs and systems until the leave is over and give my answer then."

"That's all I ask," Ratchet said, voice gentle even as he gave a sour look to the inventor and Ops commander. "I would have _preferred_ you not even know about it until then but apparently everyone else has lost their senses."

"Prime knows things we do not," Prowl could only shrug slightly and extended a hand to Wheeljack. "The data, please."

Wheeljack handed it over, unable to contain his quiver of excitement to have Prowl's feedback on his work, Whiplash nodded his satisfaction with the arrangement, and Ratchet could only shake his head and watch the Praxian turn and leave.

* * *

Optimus Prime relaxed on his large, lushly padded berth and smiled to himself. No matter how terrible the circumstances were that brought it about, it was _nice_ to have someone in his arms that didn't take him as a living god and seemed to like physical contact as much as he did. Prowl was a snuggler, just as much as he was, even if he never showed it in public.

As much as Optimus enjoyed sharing pleasure, having someone who just liked to be in close contact as they recharged was even better. He still missed Ariel's affection. After their rebuilds they had drifted apart. It still stung sometimes, but he had never been surprised. They had both been changed so much by it, her even more than him. She was still a steadfast friend, supporter and now a command officer, but they had accepted that they were no longer mates and not really even lovers.

He knew Prowl wouldn't stay, not forever. Even if this lasted centuries they would never be mates. The Praxian was dedicated to his lost triad, as it should be. They were both simply taking comfort where it was offered, even if Prowl didn't grasp how much comfort he was offering just by being there, and being calm. It was a rare and precious thing among the command staff. Though Optimus valued them all, 'calm' was not a term he would use to describe most. Ultra Magnus, perhaps, was generally calm, and he was steadfast much like Prowl, but he still lacked a level of self-confidence that the Praxian came by naturally. There was something very enticing about the field of a mech who was at peace with himself.

Deep in recharge, Prowl's severe expression relaxed and Optimus could see the strong, classical beauty that had likely first drawn Jazz to him. Likely Radiance as well, though that was a story he hadn't asked yet. He had no doubt that Prowl would tell it with that blissful, nostalgic and distant look he had whenever he spoke of his mates. Even deep in pain intense enough to twist his very coding Prowl only loved them and remembered them fondly.

It was a depth of emotion that warmed Optimus in ways he couldn't name but wanted to continue to enjoy. In less than a decaorn they had become quite accustomed to the arrangement that seemed to have simply fallen into place. Optimus wasn't fooled, though he never questioned it. Even disoriented and prone to bursts of grief Prowl was still a master planner and organizer on every level. Optimus knew what it looked like on the outside, that he was taking advantage of Prowl and Prowl was jumping in the first berth that had been offered, but they knew the truth, and so did Ratchet. Neither of them was pretending this was anything other than what it was: mutual comfort.

That it was mutual comfort with a mech who had a processor to rival his own, who happily talked universal theory, was thoughtful and never discounted an idea because it was contrary to his own beliefs, and _never_ assumed that he knew everything there was to know just made it better. Optimus saw too much of either blind loyalty or inflexibility with belief, having just the opposite had been a welcome relief. 

They were good for each other and they were quickly becoming friends, and no matter how it ended, he knew he would always be grateful to have known this spark. 

The slight shifts of Prowl's field warned of him booting up more than any sound the finely crafted and maintained frame would ever emit. Even in the silence of this room, Optimus's innate system noise drowned out any that Prowl's made.

"Hello," Optimus greeted with a murmur and a fond nuzzle once Prowl's yellow visor was powering on. "How did you recharge?"

"Better," Prowl snuggled into the contact, willing to be himself and not try to modify his behavior before one who knew his spark so well. "It is getting better. We have the morning to ourselves," he purred softly.

Optimus cocked his head, pulled up his fairly neglected personal schedule, and then chuckled. "You keep better track of where I need to be than I do," he said, running his thumb over the Praxian's helm, then tracing his chevron, all for the slightly guilty pleasure of the way Prowl always pushed into that kind of touch and the soft sound of pleasure that wasn't entirely physical.

"Someone must, and I enjoy it," Prowl actually purred as the large thumb circled over the engraving of his triad symbol. It felt good to have it touched, to know the mech he was with knew what it was and was not afraid of what it meant. "Ratchet refuses to let me _do_ anything, and for once Whiplash is going along with him."

"Ratchet is a force to be reckoned with," Optimus said, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. "Even for someone like Whiplash." His hand slipped down to touch Prowl's chest, teeking deep into his chassis, brushing his spark. "Any data glitches while you recharged? You were teeking very unsettled for a little while." 

Prowl reviewed his recharge at a glance and hummed a confirmation. "I hardly remember when I didn't anymore," he murmured, content to have the touch. "I didn't process much of the two thousand vorns after Jazz got his adult upgrades when it happened. Even with the help, it won't be worked through soon. I still miss them both too much."

Optimus just nodded understandingly and kept up the slow, wandering strokes, settling and warming the smaller mech, fully enjoying the slight flickering of his visor and the field that pressed affectionately against his. "I would like to do another merge, before the decaorn is out. It will be no more pleasant than the last one."

He felt Prowl contemplate that, the uneasy conflict between not wishing to experience that kind of condensed pain again and knowing it had already done so much good. Eventually Prowl acquiesced to the logic that he would perform his duties better healed. "Very well. In four orns? You will have the next morning half off."

"In four orns," Optimus agreed, relaxing with his berthmate for a long moment until Prowl settled again. "Are you looking forward to rejoining your triad?"

Prowl stilled, going tense on a level that was unusual for any question. This one struck hard, though, and it took him time to answer. It wasn't the answer most mecha gave.

"I still do not believe there is anything after our frame," Prowl said quietly, his field teeking that it was the truth, but a truth that had changed.

"But you believe differently now than you did before?" Optimus asked, keeping up a slow, circular rubbing over Prowl's shoulders, doorwings, and back. He didn't need to ask what event had caused a change in this mech's beliefs, his reaction to his first merge with a Prime had been telling enough. 

"It's changed a couple times," Prowl murmured, uneasy at examining this facet of reality. "Faith does not stand up well to analysis and loss."

Optimus nodded. "No, it does not," he agreed, and let that particular question shift to the side for the moment. "What did Radiance and Jazz believe, where did they imagine they would be?"

"Radiance was sure he'd be in the Well, a paradise with us. Jazz ... he was raised as I was, to believe in an after with Primus in the Well and that it would be paradise. The last time we talked, he ... he was still too angry and hurting to have clearly thought about it. He thought if there is a Primus, that to let such things happen he was unworthy of faith and worship for being either cruel or powerless. I don't think he really knew what he believed." 

"Too common a thing in our world," Optimus murmured. "The hurt that leads to hate. Why do you no longer believe in an after?" he asked, subharmonics clearly indicating that Prowl's answer would not be cause for judgment or opinion of any kind from the Prime, that it was simply Optimus asking because he cared and wanted to know.

"Enough pain can make what a mecha needs to believe to endure into what they do believe," Prowl said softly. "Vortex did that and far more. And ... and if there is an after, the physical bond will take Jazz to him, rather than to me. Oblivion can be the better option sometimes. It means that eventually the hurting will end."

Optimus just nodded, and his grip tightened that much more as his spark quietly grieved the pain this creation had endured, while they took their silent moments of comfort from each other. He was somewhat surprised when Prowl spoke.

"What do you believe, and why?"

"I believe what I have experienced and Seen and Felt through the consciousness that I am connected to," Optimus murmured. "When my spark parts from this frame, I will join with the Primes who have come before me, as part of the collective knowledge and consciousness of the Matrix. Others return to the Well of Allsparks, which is one and the same with Primus, in the very core of Cybertron. No matter where they have traveled, sparks come back to this place, where they originated."

"Is that what drove you and Elita One apart?" Prowl asked softly. "That you would go somewhere she couldn't follow when your spark was freed."

"Partly," Optimus answered honestly, optics warming with a smile as he thought of his officer and former mate. "It was more of a factor for her than me. It was hard for her to realize we could not be together in the after, and I could not fight to keep her attached to something that would be a constant source of pain. We were both changed a great deal by our upgrades. It is perhaps more accurate to say that we simply drifted apart on friendly terms."

"You are lucky then, that she can still be your friend," Prowl murmured. "Have you ... experienced ... how it is determined what a spark faces when it returns to Primus?"

Optimus's fingers settled lightly over Prowl's chest, and then pressed down, just hard enough for Prowl to feel the pressure on his plating. "I know there is peace," he said quietly. "Eventually, for all sparks, there is healing, and then peace. What that means, exactly, for each one and what they experience, I cannot tell you."

"Peace." Prowl repeated the glyph, tasting it and all its implications and subtleties as Optimus had spoken it. "Primus has his work cut out for him with Jazz. Mech never stood a chance." Anger bubbled up from deep inside Prowl, only to dissipate into bitter, undirected pain before it went anywhere. His fingers curled against his palms until the metal objected. "I hate that Primus is real."

"Why?" Optimus asked simply. 

Prowl shivered in his embrace, emotions in turmoil before they were forcefully shunted to the side. "Because it means that I've spent the entire time I've been with Jazz for _nothing_."

"No," Optimus said, quietly shocked. "Not for nothing, _never_ for nothing. I didn't know him well but it would take a sparkless frame to miss how much he loved you and how much joy he took from your presence."

Prowl stilled, trying to follow the conversation, then laughed darkly. "Not that. I could never regret Jazz. But vengeance. Not much point when _peace_ is still going to come to the spark that did so much damage. I can't punish him, and Primus won't."

"It is within Vortex's capacity to punish himself," Optimus said, understanding better, and ran his fingers over Prowl's helm. "But that task is not yours, or even mine. I know it is not what you want to hear, but perhaps even he needs the healing that can be offered in the after."

"No, it is not what I want to hear, nor your truth what I wish to believe," Prowl murmured, still and trying to relax into the touch. "That has never stopped me from asking. It is only with information that one can choose well."

A tiny thrill went through Optimus's field, those words one of the reasons he enjoyed this mech's company as much as he did. "Thank you for listening," he said, and meant it.

* * *

Ratchet stood with his hands on his hips, scowling up at the nearly incomprehensible jumble of monitors, readouts, vital statistics, and processor activity, all of it hooked up to one mech who was very carefully being brought out of medical stasis. His scowl did little to mask what he was actually feeling, which was deep concern and more than a little fear about what they had just installed in Prowl and what it was going to do to him. 

On the other side of the berth, watching just as attentively but with the exact opposite language in his field and frame, Wheeljack's fins were a bright, excited rose. Ratchet's scowl deepened as he authorized the next stage of start-up sequences, a process that had been going on for nearly a quarter joor now. "Don't look too happy," he grumbled. "We still don't know if memory will even be accessible." 

"After all he's survived, having that missing might be a blessing," Wheeljack calmed a little, looking at the mech he had just completely rebuilt for the second time. "Over two thousand vorns and he wasn't doing any better than the last time I worked on him."

Ratchet huffed. "He took the grief leave recommended for a _cousin_ , not a bonded. Of course he wasn't doing any better." His gaze flickered across to his friend while they waited for the sequence to finish filtering the pre-checks. "You've survived plenty, would you rather not be able to access your memories?"

"If I couldn't access anything, I wouldn't miss it, would I?" Wheeljack asked. "It'd be like being newly activated. But ... yeah, some orns I would like to forget."

"A few I can understand," Ratchet said, softening a little. "But everything? You wouldn't be _you_ anymore, but you'd have a spark with a lifetime of experience with no context to put it in." His plating shivered slightly. "I think that would be worse than deactivation."

"You've meet mecha that happened to?" Wheeljack held back on the statement that if losing it all was the price of losing what so hampered his quality of existence, then he considered it a fair price.

"Yeah," the medic said, frowning, staring determinedly at the screens. "It's ... it's nothing like being newly activated. Not even like a pre-prog. Fighters come back that way, helm wounds," he gestured vaguely at his head. "Only kind of therapy I've known to be successful is to download memories from mecha with similar lives, and hope they find something to connect to. Can't get rid of that kind of impression on a spark."

"He still has all his memories, though. Physically they're still there. Worst case we just have to play them back through the new tac-net so it can write them in a way it can access," Wheeljack tried to reassure his mentor-friend. "It's not like a processor injury."

_Not like me._

Ratchet winced a little, manually syncing up frame and processor functions while Wheeljack began the simultaneous booting of the last of the tac-net systems. Prowl would be online in a few kliks, if he was going to be online at all. "I'm sorry I couldn't do better for you," he said, voice low.

"Hay, you did a lot more than anybody else could," Wheeljack brightened quickly as systems hummed to life inside the Praxian frame. "It's not your fault that one-opticked slag-for-processors had me. I wasn't even an Autobot then."

Ratchet snorted, watching Prowl with his full focus. "Unlucky break for the Autobots, finding you," he said gruffly. "Crazy pain in the aft."

"Aww, I never knew you cared," Wheeljack teased back cheerfully. "Hay Prowl."

"Nnnn," Prowl's vocalizer buzzed unhappily in response, reset and tried again with similar results.

"Start-up systems are being a bit sluggish," Ratchet said, hand going to Prowl's helm, a smooth field against Prowl's flickering one. "I'd give it one more klik."

Prowl's field and efforts to use his frame settled, counting down the time.

"He recognizes language," Wheeljack trilled happily.

A flicker of a question went across Prowl's field, though he made no effort to move or speak.

"Just a little bit longer," Ratchet murmured. "This first start-up will be the most disorienting while everything is syncing in." He watched for the rest of the indicators to check and report positive, then looked back at Prowl. "Try speaking again, just your designation."

His vocalizer gave a click, then, "Prowl," in his normal voice. "I sound like myself," he added, somewhat pleased.

"How do you feel?" Wheeljack tried to control his excitement.

Prowl gave a long pause, scanning all the new, and newly missing, systems. "Fully functional. My databanks are almost empty, however."

That did not please him. He would almost call it upsetting. Scanning for a reference level of distress he matched it to the loss of his third, Radiance.

" _Whoa,_ " Ratchet and Wheeljack said in unison as Prowl's field spiked sharply, one reaching out automatically with a soothing field, a hardwired reaction to anyone currently considered a patient in an effort to calm, the other immediately looking to the system readouts for a cause for the intense distress.

"That's normal, it's okay," Ratchet said. "We had to do a lot of work on you to get the tac-net operational." 

"And it's brand new," Wheeljack added. "That's why it's so empty, it doesn't have anything entered into it yet. That's something you have to do."

Logical answer, logical reason, and Prowl settled quickly. "How soon may I return to the tactical center and begin processing its data?"

"I'd ... like to observe you for a little longer," Ratchet said, dubiously, but there was no mistaking the _hope-please-longing_ in Prowl's field, subtle as it was. "You underwent an extensive rebuild." He glanced up at Wheeljack, who shrugged at him. "Can you wait one more joor?"

"If necessary," Prowl capitulated without complaint and turned inward to put the tac-net into standby so it would stop sending errors to his primary processor.

Ratchet huffed, nodded his satisfaction, and started up as many diagnostics and checks as he would be able to fit into a joor. He carefully kept his intense relief that Prowl _could_ comply with the medical request and not fritz to himself. He really, truly, did not need another Red Alert class mecha on base. The one was more than enough to strain his skills.

* * *

Smokescreen watched dubiously as Prowl entered the SpecOps tactical headquarters, walked straight to an open station, and sat down without a single word. When Prowl continued to ignore him, even after he turned in his chair to indicate his awareness, he rolled his optics and walked over. "Welcome back," he said, and then, "So ... I heard you got some upgrades, or something?" Because, _"How was your grief leave?"_ didn't sound at all good. 

"Wheeljack created and installed a tac-net that should allow me to replace the entire tactical headquarters for the army, thus making it mobile," Prowl said, his voice as flat as his field. There wasn't even the flicker of _recognition-regret_ that usually accompanied speaking with his abandoned creation.

 _That_ made all the other tactical specialists in the surrounding area stop and look up at them, and left Smokescreen feeling incredibly awkward. "Um, oh," he said. "Is that ... healthy?"

"Likely not, but it will end the war significantly sooner. The Autobot tactical capabilities have been increased by 83% if I can successfully integrate the information available," Prowl rattled off, seemingly oblivious to the effect his words had on those around him.

"They, uh, they take out some social protocols?" Smokescreen asked, a little shocked. 

Prowl paused and scanned. "Negative. Priority downgraded to below the tac-net."

"Are there ... memories?" Smokescreen asked, starting to wonder if the mech in front of him was nothing more than walking, talking tactical simulator.

"I remember all I did before the upgrade," Prowl told him. "There is little relevance to my current existence in them."

"But what about..." Smokescreen glanced around, then lowered his voice a little. "You know, why you're doing this? You have to have a _reason_ for doing this or you won't last long."

Prowl actually stilled at that and looked up at Smokescreen with something that could have been disappointment, or possibly grief in his field. His expression showed nothing. "I am coded a seneschal. Do you know what that means?"

Smokescreen's doorwings gave an almost imperceptible, defensive rattle. "Yeah, sure, you make sure a bunch of noble prats are happy by keeping the House running smoothly."

This time it was definitely disappointment in Prowl's field. "It is to _serve_. I do this to _serve_ my Prime."

"Fine, whatever, long as you have a reason why," Smokescreen muttered with an uncomfortable resettling of his armor. 

"All is well?" a third voice asked, one that neither had noticed entering, and they turned to see Whiplash, quirking a smile at them. "I wanted to see Prowl in action, check up on those systems for myself."

"It will take several orns to fully download and process the data we possess," Prowl told him blandly. "I will have very little to show you until then."

Whiplash nodded with a cheerful bounce, not looking at all deterred. 

"Is this entire unit going to get reassigned?" Smokescreen blurted out suddenly.

"Not in my plans," Whiplash turned serious. "He's not replacing anyone."

"Good," Smokescreen huffed, and left for his own work.

Whiplash turned to focus on his newly rebuilt agent and simply watched him for a while.

"How many orns?" he asked after several kliks.

"Between three and three point five, depending on the quantity of data added since I examined the system last. Longer if I encounter difficulties," Prowl answered without hesitation.

"I'll check on you in two orns for a progress report," Whiplash said easily. "Don't forget to tend to your frame."

"Yes, sir," Prowl responded smoothly, not looking up as the lithe matte black mech walked off.


	45. Healing Friends

After three orns of downloading, Prowl's tac-net helpfully informed him that it would require an estimated six additional orns to process all the data, during which time the tac-net would be largely unavailable, but also a heavy drain on his systems. Recharge and other low-demand activities were recommended.

In short, he couldn't play Radiance's game at more than 1/10th real time.

After nine joors of recharge in the berth he had once shared with his mate, Prowl couldn't stand the restlessness anymore. He visited the washrack, polished himself, and checked the time. Optimus would be off duty in a couple breems. Prowl intended to meet him there, ensure he left on time and hope that the mech would indulge in entertaining an unpleasant Prowl.

When he got there, Optimus, of course, was still in his office sorting through reports, looking like he had no intention of stopping any time soon, with a full cube of energon sitting on the corner of his desk, completely forgotten.

It should have been gone six joors before and Prowl scowled as he walked in, his frame rigid and doorwings fanned out in a perfect parade stance. "Prime, it is not good for the army for you to neglect yourself."

Optimus's head jerked up, startled from his concentration, not having realized Prowl was there. "Prowl!" he said. "I didn't realize--I didn't know you were up!"

"The procedure was successful, though it did require me to download all available tactical data immediately. The tac-net is extremely ... unpleasant ... when it is not fed." Prowl said, his tone deadpan as he stepped closer. "I now have six orns of medical leave while the tac-net processes what it downloaded. Drink your energon, sir. It is not good for moral to see their leader in less than optimal condition."

Optimus scowled at him. "You sound like Ratchet," he said, but obediently lifted the energon and drank, muttering, "Am not in less than optimal condition, no one knows where my office is anyway."

Prowl raised an optic ridge at that. "I do. Ratchet does. Anyone who checks the base schematic can find out. You are not invisible."

Optimus gave him a _look_ but finished the cube and set it down. "There, all refueled and ready for the strenuous process of report reading. But besides the installation being successful, how are you?"

"Apparently with a better sense of time than you, sir," Prowl said dryly, though there was a tiny flicker of amusement in his field. "You are off duty in a klik and a half."

"A Prime's duty never officially ends, Prowl," Optimus told him very matter-of-factly, noting that the mech actually shifted away fractionally at the statement. "I'll leave as soon as I'm done with these."

"Estimate on when that will be?" Prowl's voice quieted and lost the authoritative edge he'd come in with.

Optimus paused, startled by the shift, and looked back up. He'd been expecting Prowl to respond more similarly to Ratchet did to that kind of argument--pointed reminders that his frame still needed the same amount of rest and fuel or he'd be a very useless Prime--and the way Prowl's voice had deflated was proving to be a much more effective technique. He glanced down at the datapads, back at his internal chronometer, and stood. "Right now," he said, optics glowing warmly. "I would like to hear more about how the tac-net is suiting you."

Doorwings lifted minutely. It was a tiny sign from a mech not prone to strong visible display, but Optimus saw it. He felt the happiness in Prowl's field as well, as muted as that was.

"It is far less difficult than Ratchet feared," Prowl said simply as he walked with Optimus out of the office. "It is very demanding, but up front and clear in what it wants. It has also been programmed with a suitable level of respect for the needs of the frame and primary processor that provides it with continuing function. We are still getting used to each other, but I believe it is a good match and integration will come with experience."

Optimus nodded, pleased to hear that his medic's worries about the installation had not panned out. "And you? Are you..." He trailed off for a moment, trying to think of the appropriate word. "Pleased? With the results?"

Prowl paused even longer than Optimus had. "I am already more content with my existence than I have been in many vorns. As I adapt to the tac-net I believe that will continue. I believe 'pleased' is a reasonable assessment at this point in time, though my access to emotional protocols is more limited than I expected. It is difficult to express it in such terms."

"I'm glad I was able to work on your spark as much as I did," Optimus said, carefully teeking and monitoring. "These protocols seem very strict. Do you ... think you might be able to find a function in this?"

"Yes." Of that Prowl was certain. "Protocols will be adapted as I grow accustomed to the new systems. It is best to set firm boundaries with such powerful hardware so it does not overwrite me, and I cannot accidentally cripple it. While it is not a full sentience, the tac-net is a powerful adaptive AI in its own right. We must adapt to each other before strict boundaries are softened to improve efficiency."

"I am glad to hear it," Optimus said as they reached his chambers. He paused outside the door, looking at Prowl. "Would you like to stay the night, or would solitude be preferable?"

"I found you because solitude was making it difficult to recharge," Prowl admitted softly, still uneasy with the statement and all the implications attached. "I still miss him."

"I don't know that you ever won't," Optimus said, not hiding the pleasure in his field that Prowl wished to stay. He hadn't seen his friend in five orns, which was an unusually long time for them in recent decaorns. They entered the Prime's quarters, going through familiar routines and motions together until they were curled together in Optimus's berth. "I think Ratchet was so worried because you actually get me to recharge on time somehow," he said teasingly. 

"Then he will be pleased that I still desire your company for it," Prowl felt himself relax, frame and processors. He was safe here. Safe in this mech's arms. Safe in this berth. He still missed his mates, Jazz still almost desperately, but he could not deny that he recharged better here. That it also kept his Prime, his newest charge, safe and recharging more often was no small amount of encouragement either.

"Very much," Optimus said with a smile in his field, stroking along Prowl's side. "Does philosophy still interest you, or is that too abstract?" 

Prowl turned that over in his processors several times. "It does, though I am not sure how flexible I am now. The tac-net has made me even more fond of order, regulations and probabilities than I used to be."

Optimus nodded. "And interfacing, relationships?" he asked, the question holding no demands or wish for the answer to be one thing or another. 

"I do not know, though I was warned that the safety systems for the tac-net will make an overload unlikely without reconfiguring my interface systems to trip at a much lower charge," Prowl explained. "A relationship?" he stilled, his field in turmoil. "I have had perfection, a full triad. No. I have not been willing to do that since Radiance grayed out in my arms."

Optimus nodded, well understanding that answer, and nuzzled. "Would that high of a charge damage the tac systems, then? Is there anything I should be careful about?"

"That is my understanding. There are charge-sinks to safeguard the most vulnerable of them. Wheeljack and Ratchet, as well as my own assessment, say that I should not have to be careful. Though much thinner, my armor is still combat grade. I do not have a significant change in balance, strength or movement. Being a mobile tactical center means that I may be required near the front lines and that was taken into account in the design. My targeting, combat and weapon systems and protocols are still fully functional, though all but one of my built-in energy weapons were removed. That one will damage systems to use, but it is better to be damaged than deactivated. As much as it will hamper me in the field, I have not truly been a field agent since I enlisted. This upgrade just makes me that much more unsuitable for most field missions," Prowl rattled off, absently noting that he was far more chatty now, even as there was less personal connection to his words.

Optimus listened quietly, absently stroking the plating and nodding. "And the sorcelling systems are gone, correct? I heard Wheeljack saying they would probably need to be removed."

"Yes, they are going to be installed in Whiplash if I understood his questioning correctly," Prowl gave a faint smile for the memory of the very, very excited little mech. It was entirely like a mechling being told he was going to have his interface systems turned on. It was cute in a disturbing kind of way, given who it was.

Optimus chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, dear," he sighed exaggeratedly. "So not only will he be able to disappear into a shadow, he'll be able to leave it looking nothing like himself. That bodes well for no one."

"Don't threaten his agents and you'll have little to worry about. He'll focus on the Decepticons," Prowl gave an odd sort of purr.

Optimus just nodded. "And you?" he asked quietly. "Has your focus remained the same?" 

Prowl stilled, his focus turning inward to track complex priority trees to their roots.

"No," Prowl answered quietly with an echo of how bereft that left him, slightly adrift, until his tac-net noticed his state and focused on him enough to set the answer and sooth his distress.

"And your new focus?" the Prime asked his soldier, as Optimus held Prowl tightly until the anxiety had fully settled. 

"Ending the war," Prowl's voice was dull. There was little enthusiasm for the goal, but there was a solid dedication to it.

A single, satisfied nod was Optimus's response. "I will look into getting you greater access and resources, once we all understand your tac-net and its capabilities further," he promised. 

"Greater access and resources?" Prowl repeated, trying to understand the statement. What did SpecOps not have access to?

"To more of the army," Optimus said. "If the tac-net is as effective as predicted, you will be the one instructing the commanders, instead of being instructed by them. Higher rank, more influence."

He teeked how startled Prowl was. Several responses came and went before he managed to twist the statement into something he could accept. "If that is the best choice."

"You will still be taking your orders from me," the Prime rumbled in reply. "No matter where you are placed, it will be where _I_ want you to be serving." 

A low, soft purr rumbled up from Prowl's engine. That was how it should be.

Optimus understood fully, and nuzzled him, purring in answer.

* * *

Slightly over a vorn after Prowl's tac-net installation, Optimus Prime found himself walking through Special Operations' headquarters, seeking its small, matte black commander. He wasn't in his office, but Optimus was content to walk through the twisting hallways, exploring the base he had so far seen relatively little of. The agents he passed all gave him startled looks before collecting themselves enough to salute properly, and as he expected, before long, Whiplash had found him instead. He had no doubt that every agent who'd seen him had run right to him to alert him of the intruder they were not allowed to remove.

Occasionally, it was good to be the Prime.

"What do you need?" Whiplash asked ... and he was actually _asking_ , rather than demanding or snarling.

"I was looking for you, actually," Optimus said, unable to quite hide the amusement in his field at how quickly he'd been discovered. "I'd like to talk about Prowl, if you have the time, or arrange an appointment."

"Has he raised some concern with you?" Whiplash asked even as he motioned the much, much larger mech to follow him to his office.

"Not at all," Optimus said, carefully measuring his paces in order to keep even. "I wanted an update about how he has been using his tac-net and how efficiently he has been able to employ it."

"He's already more than balanced any cost involved in it, including all the damage Wheeljack managed to do up to now," Whiplash wasn't at all shy about bragging about either of his prize non-standard agents. "He was a brilliant manager before. Now I'm quite sure he could manage the entirety of the empire at its height. The glitches are manageable in a controlled environment, which he has, and are likely to lessen as he and the tac-net adapt. So far I've mostly asked him to find and select the most important targets and propose which agents to send. I haven't disagreed with him yet."

Optimus hummed. "And what about directing larger groups, special task teams and the like? How has he done with those?" 

Whiplash warily regarded the mech he didn't even reach the waist of. "He's done search and rescue and SWAT tactics in the sims and submitted a few plans I've added to the roster. I've heard some mumbling about a plan to defend Iacon from the next big assault, but not from Prowl."

"If you were to extrapolate on his ability to work with larger numbers?" Optimus asked casually.

"It's always been his weakness," Whiplash shrugged and entered a briefing room instead of his office out of courtesy for Optimus Prime's size. "He was bred, raised, trained, upgraded and experienced with directly managing a single household or unit even smaller," he began at he relaxed into the chair that was always his, motioning to a much larger one that was usually given to a team's transport, often a shuttle. "He's exceptional at it. On a larger scale he only did top-level administration, given broad orders and trusting lower-ranked commanders to carry them out in a way that suited the local household. What he's _really_ good at in large scale is supply management. But mecha ... he's still got a lot of issues when it comes to handling armies, even if Smokescreen admits he's getting better at it."

"I would like large scale management and direction to become a top priority in his training," Optimus said. "With regular updates. Beyond that how is he handling the tac-net?"

Whiplash straightened sharply with a flash across his matte black visor. "You intend to take him from me."

Optimus raised a single optic ridge at his commander. "I intend to employ him in the manner in which he will be most useful for the overall good of Cybertron," he said calmly.

The lithe minibot huffed. "Different words, same effect. I _wish_ I could accuse you of favoring your lover, but even I know it's not true." He huffed again. "But tell me _why_ and I'll do it."

"Because there is no loss in transferring him, and significant potential for gain," Optimus said, as he nodded in thanks that Whiplash was not among the many who had made such accusations against the Praxian. "You will still have an entire tactical division, which Prowl will be able to oversee, the army as a whole stands to gain a great deal of efficiency, and on top of that, Prowl will be in a position better suited to him personally. It may even increase his efficacy by lowering his overall stress."

The last bit made Whiplash cock his helm and meet the Prime's optics. "He's not suited for Ops?"

"He's suited well enough," Optimus said slowly. "In that he can do the work competently, but he craves more structure than it can offer. He does he best work, I suspect, with a clear hierarchy, something that even you can admit Ops does not have. Along with routine, structure, and very clear boundaries. He has trouble seeing moral boundaries for himself, which I think you know."

"Yes, though he has stronger ones than Jazz did," Whiplash hummed. "That flexibility is a rare trait, Prime. One that is incredibly valuable to me. Though I admit I cannot argue that he would enjoy his existence more with the structure you would provide him."

Whiplash fell silent, his internal struggle not nearly as well hidden from the Prime as he would want it. In the end, his own morals decided it for him.

"You know about his surviving creations and his relationships with them?" Whiplash asked quietly.

"I do," Optimus murmured, nodding once. "Strained at worst, distant at best, although I believe he has hope for the twins still. It is not a topic we often broach."

Whiplash grunted agreement. "I'm sure he'll be grateful to be away from Smokescreen. 'Strained' is a polite way of describing it. Will you tell me why he's in your berth? Mech isn't one for sleeping around, unless it was part of the job."

Optimus looked startled by the question, and shifted a little uncomfortably. "Well," he mumbled, and the transformation from Prime to awkward mechling was something to behold, "Because he likes to cuddle as much as I do."

Whiplash stared, his processors clicking almost audibly, and suddenly he laughed, shaking his helm. "You are two of the least cuddly mecha I've ever met. Oh, I know Prowl's all touchy with his mates, but he has no use for touching with anyone else. Be careful with him, Prime." And now the words were a serious warning. "You can transfer him from Ops, but he'll always be one of mine. I don't take it well when one of mine is hurt."

"He is also one of mine," the Prime rumbled. "I take care of those that are mine."

* * *

"Primus it's nice to be in Iacon again," Sideswipe said, stretching as he walked, loosening everything out from the long drive. Their unit was being rotated back into the Autobot capital, to serve as border guards there for the next division cycle. It still didn't mean privacy, but it meant berths, _real_ berths with _actual_ padding, even if the padding was about as comfortable as scrap metal, it was the illusion of the thing that counted. "Remember off shifts?" Sideswipe grinned, looking around. "Remember this? No moment's-notice-get-your-afts-out-here-now?" In truth, that was what _he_ was most looking forward to; the constant stress and unknown schedule was hard on Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe wanted him to have some more consistency.

"Remember wash racks?" Sunstreaker grunted and shoved him lightly, pointing out how filthy he was. "Right after we get cleaned up we can check out the main common room, see what kind of mecha are around."

"But I _liked_ writing 'polish this' on your aft," Sideswipe said cheerfully as he altered his course immediately, heading for the washracks instead.

"And I like beating your helm in for it," Sunstreaker snarled at him, a sound that scattered a few mecha in the hall before them. "No excuse for looking like refugees from a Neutral camp any longer than absolutely required."

Sideswipe just grinned and silently agreed, optics not even so much as flickering at the snarl as they tracked the skittering steps of the mecha who were now quickly getting out of their way--habit, instinct, watching and judging the speed and agility of anyone close enough to be a threat. He knew Sunstreaker was doing the same thing, and it was almost a relief when they made it to the washracks without incident. 

They cleaned thoroughly, helping each other in a perfectly synchronized and familiar routine that had been learned in washracks with walls dirtier than they were, better suited for a minibot. As tempting as it was sometimes to have his twin with loosened armor and standing right _there_ , Sideswipe never broke from the cleaning routine; it wasn't worth it for the anxiety it would cause Sunstreaker. Being clean was more than vanity, it was _survival._ They could always tell who the other ranking gladiators were, whether they recognized the frames or not. Every last one of them had learned the same lesson the same way. They could always tell who wasn't a gladiator too, for the looks the pair got. Most frontliners didn't take nearly the care with their appearance as they did, but most frontliners hadn't grown up the way they had.

Getting clean, dry, polished and waxed ate half the free time before lights out on their first night here and they still hadn't seen their bunks, but there was no way it wasn't worth it. Even Sideswipe noticed how three joors of effort had elevated his mental state noticeably. The effect on his brother was even more noticeable, at least to him. Most of the others would never pick it out, but Sideswipe knew that a good-looking Sunstreaker was a far less aggressive Sunstreaker and that could make the difference between recharging in a berth and recharging in the brig tonight.

If at all possible, he really, _really_ wanted to recharge in a berth. 

But before that, they'd seen the same faces with only the variety of their 'Con attackers for vorns, and Sideswipe was dying to fix that. He dragged the much-more-compliant Sunstreaker with him to the nearest rec room, the giant social hub for infantry, where anyone could come any time of orn to reminisce about high grade and socialize. 

"Society!" Sideswipe said, holding his arms out as they entered the sparsely populated room.

"Not much of it," Sunstreaker huffed even as he swept the space with sharp blue optics and selected a table near enough to the largest gathering to join if they wanted, or to just listen and settle back into the so-called "society" slowly if not.

"It's still an improvement," Sideswipe said, sitting next to him and laying his head on his shoulder, audials trained around them, picking up on the conversation from the larger group. 

"Nah, see," one of the grounders was saying after a round of laughter died down, "What I want to know is how to get the gig as Prime's berthwarmer! _That_ would be the best job to have!"

"Step one would be to get rid of his current one," someone snickered. "Not like anybody'd miss the glitch."

"He must have _something_ going for him!" a minibot groused. "Prime made him tactical SIC, brought him out of _nowhere_. Mech didn't even exist before that."

"Seriously!" came the exasperated response. "We checked out his enlistment file once and it was an amnesty deal kind of thing, and then he was shuffled right into SpecOps, no one hears from him for vorns, and suddenly he's spreading for the Prime and getting all kinds of benefits!" 

"Who is it?" a new voice asked curiously, and the twins recognized that one, a small, scrappy grounder from their unit. "Anyone to look out for?"

"Prowl. Black and white Praxian, red chevron, insufferably stuffy and by the book," came the sneer of an answer. "Unless you want brig time, stay the Pit away from him. Mech's nothing but trouble for the rest of us."

"Yeah, he's so full of himself since he got the Prime's berth, like he owns the army or something," another added.

"Got it," the mech chuckled, while Sideswipe and Sunstreaker frowned, sat up straight, and looked at each other. 

"He got some kind of fancy tech installed," one of the others continued. "Not long after he started staying nights with Prime. Then, yeah, instant promotion. He must be _spectacular_ in berth because he's about as interesting as rust otherwise." 

As much as he tried, Sideswipe couldn't quite stop himself from doing a quick standing turnabout, the soft growl in his engines shocking him even as it rumbled up. "Sorry--did I hear _Prowl?_ That was the designation?"

"Yeah, Prowl, the black and white Praxian," the mech looked up at him as the entire table tensed, seeing the two frontliners taking them in. The mech who knew them beat a hasty retreat out of assault range but stayed close enough to hear, and maybe even back them up. "What's he to you?"

"Nothing," Sideswipe said defensively, startled by the question and his own reaction. "But mechs, seriously, are you sure what you think is happening is what's _really_ happening? I mean, where the frag is Jazz in all this?"

"Jazz?" one of them repeated blankly. 

"Oh, him?" the one who'd looked up Prowl's records said. "That was the one he enlisted with, they entered under the same plea bargain. He's deactivated, took less than a metacycle for Prowl to get in with Prime after." He snorted. "Some devoted mate."

Sideswipe glanced at his brother, and even Sunstreaker shook his head in disbelief.

"Must have taken a hard hit to the helm," the yellow warrior muttered. "That's not the Prowl we met."

"Yeah, well," the grounder said, " _Whatever_ happened to him, he's sitting cozy up top now and you _don't_ want to get in his way." 

"We'll keep that in mind," Sideswipe said, frowning deeply.

Sunstreaker nudged Sideswipe to leave and stalked through the halls, following a map and location ping from the mainframe through places they'd never been. Prowl was listed as in his office in the Tactical division's quarter, well below the main levels of the base. Security was visibly better when they reached it, but they weren't challenged for more than their ID pings until they reached the hall that lead to the tactical mainframe and officer's offices.

"Right," the guard laughed as soon as they told him what they wanted. "Because we let just anyone in to see Prowl without an appointment."

"Look, just give him our designations," Sideswipe said. "He'll make time." 

The guard scowled at them, but it wasn't actually an unreasonable statement, so he pinged Prowl on low priority. In less than half a klik the Tactical SIC responded.

::Sideswipe and Sunstreaker want to see you. No appointment,:: the guard relayed.

There was a startled sound on Prowl's side of the comm, then, ::Let them in.::

The guard's equally startled look was enough of an answer for the twins, who smirked at the mech as they went by, following the hallways around until they reached Prowl's office, finding the door already open for them. 

"Um, hey," Sideswipe said, poking his head around, forcing a smile as he took in a fairly large room utterly devoid of decoration. There was a small desk and terminal in one corner and the bulk of the space taken up by a tactical table.

Prowl looked up at them, his features blank, but he motioned them in. "I'm afraid I do not have visitors often enough to have chairs. I did not realize you had arrived yet."

"And you probably weren't expecting to see us even when we had," Sideswipe offered with a shrug and a grin as they walked in, canvassing the room and settling into easy stances near the desk. Sunstreaker snorted in agreement with that statement.

"No, but I would have known to look for you," Prowl responded. "I admit I am surprised you came to find me."

"Yeah, well," Sideswipe said, shrugging uncomfortably and glancing at his twin. "We're as surprised as you are, I think. We heard some chatter..." 

Sunstreaker growled soft and deep, a sound that was felt more than heard as the frontliner's engines hummed dangerously. 

"And we just sort of, I guess, we were curious, because it sounded strange," Sideswipe finished. 

"Please be more specific. I do not keep up on base gossip. That is a different unit," Prowl explained.

"It was about--" Sunstreaker began. 

"What happened to Jazz?" Sideswipe blurted, getting a startled look from his twin. The reaction from Prowl was unmistakable as intense grief and loss as his doorwings dropped and optics dimmed to a pale white.

"He was on a mission. I made physical contact with every mechanical in the prison camp, from guards to drones. Decepticons don't keep good records, but we searched the prisoners and guards that had been moved out. Hunted for him. Eventually even I accepted he had been deactivated in the cave-in and smelted down." Prowl's voice quieted every couple glyphs and hitched in places until it was barely more than a whisper.

"Oh," Sideswipe said quietly. "Um. I'm sorry." 

Sunstreaker huffed. "Yeah, that's a downer and all, but the rest of it was that you're in with the Prime and that's why you got promoted. But we know _that_ isn't true, because our processors didn't come from nowhere." 

"Right," Sideswipe said, shaking himself. "And we just wanted to see what all _that_ was about. Less than a metacycle, really?"

Prowl gave them a look that was even more blank than before that slowly faded to confused. "I spend a great deal of my free time with Prime, true. He offered a healing merge a few orns after I accepted that Jazz was gone. As much as it hurt, it did help. We learned we have more in common than I expected. It is nice to talk with someone who can disagree and remain rational. He's well educated now."

The twins were just staring at him. 

"Healing merge and being friends is one thing," Sideswipe said. "But 'facing him?"

"Did you _actually_ get hit in the helm?" Sunstreaker asked with no pause for Prowl to reply, peering at him. 

Prowl cycled his optics as it hit him and he had to bite back a laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it. "Let's back up. Was the rumor that I'm in some kind of relationship with the Prime?"

"The word 'berthwarmer' came up a few times," Sideswipe said, frowning. 

"And 'spreading it for him,'" Sunstreaker rumbled. 

"And extra upgrades and promotions," the red twin finished.

"I don't suppose you have the ID pings or designations of any of them? This will need to be addressed." Prowl rubbed the center of his chevron, which still proudly bore the engraved glyph of his triad. "The upgrades had been planned for vorns, though I didn't know about it. It took Wheeljack more than three decades to make the new tac-net functional. The timing may have been coincidental to Jazz's loss or not. I would not put it past Whiplash to consider such things in timing the offer to me. As for being a berthwarmer ... I am no more that for Prime than he is for me, in a very literal sense. We both recharge better with another warm frame. He lost his mate and I lost mine. You take comfort where and how you can find it. That's all it is between us."

"Oh," the twins said in unison. 

"Yeah well, that makes a lot more sense," Sunstreaker muttered. 

"Yeah, we can get those designations," Sideswipe said, nodding. "Glitches."

"Thank you," Prowl said.

"So ... but you did get hit in the helm?" Sunstreaker asked. "You're being even more ... _you_."

"My tac-net is now the primary influence on my behavior," Prowl attempted to explain. "There is very little left over after its needs are met."

The twins glanced at each other. 

"Makes sense," Sideswipe said cheerfully. "So other than life being as nice as slag, how are you?"

Prowl had to pause to try to answer that, since the tac-net recognized it as a question not meant for it.

"Ready to extinguish. I am tired of hurting."

Quiet empathy came from the twins. 

"'S a rough life," Sunstreaker said. "You just keep facing one battle after the next until you're done."

"Such is our lot, it seems," Prowl responded quietly. "I am pleased that you survived your rotation, and you could get your face fixed," he glanced towards Sunstreaker.

"Uh, fixed?" the yellow warrior looked at him in confusion. His optics brightened with comprehension when Prowl traced the lines Jazz's claws had followed vorns before on his own faceplates. "Nah, that healed up like always. Just takes a while."

"That should not have healed by self-repair," Prowl half-mused.

"Stuff like that always does," Sideswipe said, shrugging as he shot his twin a half grin. "Keeps him handsome." 

Sunstreaker shoved him. "That one of those noble protoform things?" he asked Prowl curiously.

"No, something far more unique," he hummed. "You may have inherited something from Jazz and I that no one realized could be passed on. Have you ever looked significantly different than this?"

"Well, there was the Bladed Brothers gig which looked _nothing_ like us, but those were rebuilds," Sideswipe said, catching how startled Prowl looked despite the muted reactions.

"Those were _you?_ " Prowl looked between them, his doorwings raised slightly. "Silver and gold, wheeled pedes, long built-in arm blades."

"Yeah, that was it!" Sideswipe said, grinning. "See our posters? We were pretty fine, weren't we, Sunny?" 

Sunstreaker gave his brother a patiently tolerant look. "Those finishes smeared when they got _looked_ at, Sides," he said. "I, at least, was glad to see that look go." 

"We were there, in the audience, when you fought the Battlechargers," Prowl almost stammered. "Yes, you were very fine. Exceptional fighting too. We couldn't get close enough to teek if either set was actually you."

"The Battlechargers were _definitely_ twins," Sunstreaker grumbled as Sideswipe continued to grin at the compliment. "No unbonded pair moves like that together." 

"Made for a fantastic show, though," Sideswipe said. "I remember that crowd, our handler got us some of the best energon we've ever had after that one." 

"You were ... still looking for us, after all that time?" Sunstreaker asked. 

"Yes. There was rumor that twin gladiators were going to be fighting. We were already in Kaon hunting Decepticons, but it was too good a chance at finding you to pass up. We were hoping for a shot at Megatron or Vortex too, since Megatron sponsored the games. We didn't see them, and couldn't get close enough to any of the gladiators to try to teek." Prowl explained, now regretting that he hadn't tried harder, that he'd convinced himself that his duty to his creations was long over when they had been so close. "We could have found a way to get you out, if you'd wanted out."

Sideswipe shrugged a bit. "'S all right," he said. 

Sunstreaker turned a sudden scowl on him. "No, Sides, it really isn't," he said. He looked coldly back at Prowl. "You obviously have work to do, and we have a berth calling for us." 

"Go then. Recharge," Prowl's harmonics were of understanding and smooth acceptance. Both of Sideswipe's attempt at making him feel better and Sunstreaker's anger. "I will look you up when we are both off shift soon," he added to Sideswipe, though the glyphs made it clear he intended it to be both of them.

* * *

After the third round of Sovereign in which Optimus actually came close to beating Prowl and his companion's energon ration still hadn't been touched, he decided that the strange teek he was getting was more than just ornly stress. "Something stealing thinking power?" he asked. 

Prowl looked up at him, startled. "I had a most unsettling encounter today. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have rotated back to Iacon and heard a few things they found disturbing enough to find me and question me directly about." He hesitated, then plunged forward. "It seems some mecha, perhaps many, believe I am your berthwarmer."

Optimus frowned deeply, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers together as he considered all the different pieces of information in those words. "That must be addressed immediately, personal slander of that kind against a ranking officer is unacceptable."

"It should be done carefully, Optimus," Prowl cautioned from a niggling by seneschal coding. "It is already believed that my upgrades and rank were acquired by interfacing with you."

Optimus's engines rumbled with displeasure. "Nothing could be farther from the truth. I will look into it, and let the more socially connected officers advise me. Other than that, how was seeing the twins?" he asked, with concern-laced subharmonics as he reached across to cover Prowl's hand with his own.

"It was good to know they survived," Prowl gave a small smile. "It was good to see them again, no matter how difficult it is to see what happened to them. I also learned that we saw them in an arena fight in Kaon. We were so close, and didn't see it."

Optimus squeezed gently, his hand large and strong enough to crush Prowl's if he were to use force. "They are survivors, like you. They have each other, no matter the past. It cannot be changed, only recovered from."

"Yes. It still affects us, particularly Sunstreaker. He has recovered little since their escape, and I grieve for what he continues to lose for it," Prowl admitted. "They are still my youngest, and Sideswipe the only of my creations that is willing to be civil with me."

"I'm sorry," Optimus murmured, stroking with his thumb and warmed by how Prowl and leaned into the contact, frame and field. "Tell me more about them, who they are today? Considering their creators, I'm sure they are spectacular mecha."

"Their upbringing after their youngling upgrades did much of the shaping. First youngling pit fighting, then gladiators. When Smokescreen rescued them they were among the top teams in the empire, but they were still slaves. It shows a lot in how they move, how they think, and I'm very sure it's responsible for Sunstreaker's glitch. He was maturing into a mech that could have become a seneschal. Not of my grade, but good enough for my kin to claim with some pride. Smart, observant, measured in his reactions, protective of what was his and very good at following orders. He had a talent for art. Now ... he's violent, ill-tempered and has more hate in him than I know how to reach through. He was the one I had claimed as mine, back when we had to pretend that we each carried one of them. I can't reach him anymore."

"Hate has claimed too many sparks," Optimus said sadly. "That he has a brother he loves may well have saved him from being completely destroyed. What is his glitch?"

"Once a violent reaction is triggered, there is no way to stop him until either he or his targets are no longer able to move," Prowl murmured. "He's a berserker."

"...Ah," Optimus said, and sighed. "A very useful trait in a frontliner, unfortunately. Sideswipe is recovering better, though?"

"He seems to be. He was always the more social one and still is. He was the one willing to let me keep in contact when we stumbled across each other." Prowl x-vented deeply. "Of the five of us, he fakes being sane and stable the best, not that it's much of a level." A fond smile crossed his features. "Well, maybe Jazz could fake it better, but only when he felt like it. Sunstreaker and I were always too introverted and smart to seem normal, even before we were damaged."

Optimus reached across with his other hand to stroke gentle fingers across Prowl's chevron, helm, and then down to press his palm against his face, thumb going over his lips while he smiled sadly. "They take care of each other?"

"Yes," Prowl leaned into the touch, welcoming the comfort and kissed the thumb caressing his lip plates. "They're all they've ever had to rely on, much as I still wish it otherwise. They protect each other, take care of each other ... they do love each other deeply, even if neither will ever admit it. They have that, at least."

Optimus's field warmed at the kiss, continuing to trace slowly. "I'm glad they survived," he murmured. "There is hope for you to come to know them again, if we ever survive this war."

"I am working on that," Prowl murmured as arousal licked at the edges of his field. "For tonight, I believe the best use of our energy is to overload, and then have a good night's recharge. You feel good to be inside, and you stretch me so exquisitely."

Optimus's optics brightened in a smile and he nodded once. "I would enjoy that very much."


	46. Communication Fallout

Prowl moaned under Optimus as each thrust rocked his frame. Of all the positions they had interfaced in, all the methods, this was his favorite for the base physical release. The large mech against his back, holding him, rocking him as their pleasure built. The understanding that Optimus had learned that Prowl didn't want him to hold back or ask if he could overload inside him. It had taken a bit, but eventually the Prime had understood that giving pleasure was just as sweet to Prowl as it was to him.

This wasn't a spark merge, as cathartic as those were, but there was something good about such a simple overload that pure, base physical contact could bring. After almost six metacycles without an overload, Prowl had finally relented and had Ratchet adjust his systems to trigger at a lower level. It wasn't nearly as intense as before, but it still felt good and it did give him the release he needed.

With a shudder Prowl cycled the calipers in his valve, caressing the spike and mech he knew well enough to work a customized pattern on. It made Optimus groan out his designation, sweet and heady, and his arms tightened around Prowl's frame, one under his chest and holding him flush, the other wrapped beneath his hips, fingers working and stimulating. Prowl braced on his elbows, gripping the berth padding tightly, while Optimus's hot, heavy x-vents panted above him. "Prowl," he moaned. " _Prowl._ "

"Optimus," Prowl's reply was thick with static. "Feels so good. I want to feel your overload inside me. So close...."

Optimus let go with a room-shaking roar, spilling deep into his lover, shaking as he overloaded, almost buckling forward as he drove in again and again. Prowl's voice soon joined his, higher but no less harmonic in the lower-charged bliss. They remained there, their frames locked together and crackling for long, blissful moments. Prowl's overload, triggered by a much lower charge level, continued to crackle through his systems for several kliks, though it never reached the point of being visible.

Eventually Prowl's frame unlocked and he collapsed forward, all the strength gone from his frame and his processors wonderfully blank and happy in their fuzziness.

Optimus slowly, carefully lowered himself down over him, shifting his hands so he was still holding Prowl with one, using the other elbow to stay propped up as he nuzzled the limp mech beneath him. Shielding, protecting, one that had become so dear to his spark. "You are beautiful in pleasure," he murmured.

Prowl hummed happily at the compliment, his tac-net largely shut down to protect itself. It left Prowl dazed and teeking oddly content. "Your best is when you let go and let yourself be a mech wanting release," he eventually answered.

Optimus chuckled, enjoying Prowl's fuzzy post-overload state while the tac-net reset and rebooted. It never failed to leave him even more snuggly than usual, and unfailingly honest without his normal thought-speech systems engaged, those having been linked into the tac-net. "Is it now?" he rumbled deeply. "That's how you most enjoy me?"

"Mmm, no, but it's the best look on you," Prowl trilled lightly. "Like you best when we talk, even if it's a lot harder now. And play games. Just get to be mechs. Not the Prime and the freaky walking tactical system that can't take a joke. What I loved about Praxus. I was just a mech there. Not the Seneschal, or a sadist's toy, or a criminal or ... whatever else I called myself. Had a few centuries where I knew what was possible, even as messed up as we were. We could still have an existence worth living beyond revenge."

Grief curled around Prowl, smothering him, but the thick blanket was nothing compared to the truly suffocating, spark-extinguishing grief he used to teek of.

Optimus wrapped around him, rolling just enough so he could hold Prowl more fully and stroke his helm. "I cherish those times with you," he said softly. "When I'm just Optimus, not the leader of the Autobots holding the fate of Cybertron in my hands. I know I'm no replacement for what you had." He pressed lips to armor. "Thank you for staying." 

_Thank you for choosing to live._

"You give me what I need," Prowl mumbled, still thick with grief but feeling it lift, albeit slowly. "Need to be useful. Like being useful. Prime needs to remember how to be Orion sometimes."

"Yes," Optimus murmured, and held Prowl as tightly as he dared without risking damage, laying with him for nearly two breems until the tac-net had fully booted and _Prowl_ was once more being filtered through it. Optimus's spike slowly drew back and the embrace loosened enough for Prowl to move freely if he chose to. "What is the tactical outlook if we manage to seize that prison camp?" Optimus asked. So soon after an overload and the intense emotions that had followed, shoptalk was the surest way to help the tac-net settle. He felt a caress of gratitude for it across their fields as Prowl processed the question.

"While it is not worth the resources to hold the weapons facility it is a front for, the loss of that facility will reduce Decepticon overall strength by 5.3%, with an 8.34% reduction in strength on the Tyger Pax front."

Suddenly Prowl was standing, circling around the room in one of the few expressions of his build-in need to _move_ that he permitted himself now.

"Of the prisoners and guards taken, we can expect between six and eight new recruits, of which one has any combat training or experience," Prowl rattled on.

"What of the other survivors, what are the chances at successful rehabilitation into society?" Optimus asked as he stood, heading for the door. "Follow," he added, gesturing with his head. While Prowl answered, flinging off percentages and statistics, along with partitions for region of origin and length of time spent in the camp, Optimus looked up a few comm frequencies by designation. ::Sunstreaker, Sideswipe,:: he sent. 

There was a long pause before the lines were accepted and established, with a startled feeling coming across them. ::Uh, yes, Prime, sir?:: Sideswipe answered. 

::Are you currently off duty?:: Optimus asked amiably.

::Yes, sir,:: Sideswipe responded, torn between wary and excited. It wasn't every orn that the _Prime_ commed a lowly soldier out of the blue.

::If you'd like to join us, we are heading out to the track. Prowl needs someone to race against and I do not make much of a racer, myself,:: Optimus explained. ::If you are otherwise occupied, however, I am sure we can find some others to drag out there.::

::Not a chance!:: Sideswipe was definitely excited. ::We'll be there, sir!:: A pause. ::Whether grumpy likes the idea or not.::

Optimus chuckled, leading Prowl through the halls, gaining a pair of personal guards as he left the Prime's Residence. ::I am sure Prowl will appreciate it. And if anything, Sunstreaker, it will be a chance to prove that you are faster than both of them.::

::When has there been doubt?:: the sullen warrior growled, though there was a noticeable effort to indicate his ire was not directed at the mech he was speaking to.

::Always,:: Sideswipe said cheerfully. ::I was first, I'll always be fastest.::

::You were only first because I was held down,:: Sunstreaker snapped back.

::Only because I was further out, and thus faster than you,:: Sideswipe chided his brother before the connection to the Prime closed, leaving the twins to continue their argument in relative privacy.

They arrived at the racetrack to find the twins there waiting for them, Sideswipe smiling brightly and Sunstreaker scowling, but it was looking like more of an expression of habit than any actual lingering ire. 

"Hello," Optimus greeted.

"Hi, sir," Sideswipe grinned at him even as he noted that Prowl perked up. He focused on his sire. "Ready to get your aft handed to you?"

"We shall see who gets his aft handed to him," Prowl's near-monotone still betrayed his excitement and a bit of smug pride that lingered from his apprehension record as an Enforcer.

"Yeah, yeah, let's get rolling," Sunstreaker grumbled as he tugged his brother to the start line. Prowl followed more smoothly, transforming to settle on his tires as his engine revved, ready to show the pair what he was capable of.

::I thought you could use an opponent with a bit more agility than I have,:: Optimus said, transforming and settling behind the trio, with no illusions that he could keep up with any of them when it came to outright speed. 

::Your thoughtfulness never fails to surprise me,:: Prowl replied, approval and gratitude curling around every glyph.

The automatic starting countdown had begun, catching the three racers' immediate and rapt attention, and when it reached the end and the lights changed, engines roared to life as accelerations were gunned and they shot off the line, leaving Optimus's slower acceleration far, far behind. 

Sunstreaker did take the immediate lead, hurtling past his brother and sire on the first turn, but by barely less than half a length, and they were gaining quickly. From his vantage point well behind them, Optimus could pick out their respective strengths. Sunstreaker had the speed and initial start. Sideswipe made the most ground on the turns, and Prowl, much as Optimus knew and expected from the Enforcer background, did his best when there was someone to chase.

Prowl did love to chase. He enjoyed it more than winning, at least to a point. It felt good to watch the three of them in a fairly tight pack, trading off positions as their respective strengths came out.

On the first lap, Sunstreaker definitely took it by several lengths.

By the sixth he and Sideswipe were trading off.

On the ninth Prowl took the lead and never gave it up again.

Optimus was waiting at the finish line when all three came roaring past within moments of each other, smiling behind his mask to feel the brush of exhilaration in their fields as they shot past, turning into the slow-down lane and braking hard before circling back, transforming back into root mode at the same time. 

"I'd have won if we were doing sprints," Sunstreaker said, shoving his twin playfully.

"Which is why we don't," Sideswipe shoved back. "You've got no staying power."

Prowl was actually _smiling_ where he walked behind them, his doorwings just a little higher and more open than usual.

"Feel better?" Optimus murmured to him once they were side by side as the twins bickered back and forth in what sounded like a centuries-old argument.

"Yes," Prowl turned that smile towards him. "Thank you. I forget how much I enjoy racing, chasing."

Optimus leaned in a little closer, optics shining. "I'll have to get you out here more, then, you look incredible on the track."

"Hey!" Sideswipe called, and they looked up to see both twins cocking their heads at him. "You two and your not-relationship want to take it to a room or something?"

Prowl cocked an optic ridge at his youngest creations, noting the glower the yellow one wore. "Our not-relationship?"

"Well, that's what you like to call it, I'm just trying to be respectful of your choice of label," Sideswipe said, grinning.

"As obviously untrue as it is," Sunstreaker added. 

"A relationship requires a romantic emotional attachment," Prowl informed them evenly. "It is more than two mecha who look out for each other."

"Oh, my mechs," Sideswipe said, shaking his head. "You are _far_ more than two mecha who look out for each other." 

Optimus looked truly startled. "We're friends," he said. "Enjoying one another's company does not in and of itself indicate a relationship." 

"But you're lovers," Sunstreaker pointed out. 

Prowl's doorwings flicked up and out, but it wasn't in threat or objection. No, it was a startle response as strong as the Prime's. "Sharing a berth or interfacing does not make for lovers," he countered even as he turned his tac-net onto the question fully. He could understand where they were coming from, but it simply wasn't true. He had no desire or expectation for romance or love from Optimus. "You are mistaking duty and need for desire."

"'Duty and need?'" the twins repeated in unison. 

"That would be _the_ worst interfacing ever!" Sideswipe continued. "You might as well have a medic overload you if that's what it was!" 

"You recharge together almost every single night," Sunstreaker said, and he looked almost amused at the flustered expressions on their faces. 

"Because it's the only way I get any _recharge_." Prowl emphasized the fact that it was rest, not any colloquial variant. His doorwings dropped. "I need someone there."

There was no way to mistake that he was ashamed of that fact, or that he'd resigned himself to it.

Sunstreaker huffed, his scowl returning, and Sideswipe looked marginally guilty. "Look," the red twin said. "It isn't a _bad_ thing if you're together. You obviously care about each other, you're not _just_ friends and it isn't _just_ duty. Even if it's casual and open, it's still a relationship."

Prowl opened his mouth to say something, then closed it as it finally registered why he had such a deep resistance to the term. "I will take that under consideration."

Optimus tilted his head curiously at him. 

"Well ... good," Sideswipe said, looking a little startled himself. "I think that would be good for you. We've got duty in a groon, though, and I'm sure glitch-head here wants to polish first." He gave his brother an exasperated look. 

Sunstreaker shoved him. "Just because _I_ have priorities," he growled. 

"You have an ego, Sunny," Sideswipe said. "There's a difference." He shot a grin at Optimus and Prowl. "So you two can go and get a room and we'll never know, your secret will be safe." 

"We actually have to be back on duty to monitor reports from--" Optimus started, before he correctly read the dual smirks he was getting. "...Oh. You don't actually care." 

"Nor would we believe you," Sideswipe said. "Thanks for the race, Prowl, that was fun."

"It was enjoyable," Prowl replied politely as they all turned to return to the base. The twins naturally moved much faster than the Prime, and Prowl hung back with his leader from habit. His processors were turned deeply inward, trying to analyze the difference between what he knew was his personal truth -- this was duty and need -- and what the outside perceived -- that he and Prime were in a serious and likely exclusive relationship.

The process left him broody and unhappy, but such was often the price of survival.

Optimus's comm broke through his thoughts shortly before they reached the outside gates, which had already opened for them. ::You know I wouldn't want you to be with me--I mean, whatever we're doing--I mean--:: An irritated engine huff. ::I don't want you to feel like you have a duty to me, beyond the terms of your enlistment. Because I'm the Prime.::

::It is not because you are Prime,:: Prowl told him truthfully. ::I must _serve_. You are simply the one my coding locked onto when bereft of my last Lord. If Whiplash had understood what I am, he would have made sure to present himself first.::

Optimus hummed thoughtfully. ::Then I am glad I called you when I did. Whiplash would take entirely too much advantage of you. Um...:: His teek shifted to what Prowl had come to label as Orion. ::What they were saying, about...::

::From an outside viewpoint, we are.:: Prowl admitted, reluctant and very irritated. No one would have mistaken what was going on in a proper House, but such things hadn't existed for some time now.

Another huff from Optimus. ::I really think we should be the ones who are deciding that kind of thing,:: he said dryly. 

::We know what we are. Others will invent their own reality that suits their morals and beliefs.:: Prowl replied as he came to accept that fact in regards to himself and that it actually carried some weight. ::I would suggest we simply stop denying whatever they decide to invent, so long as it is not detrimental to the war.::

::Hm,:: Optimus rumbled as they transformed back up into root mode to head down to the command center. ::Agreed, the war effort is top priority. And as a bonus, it means that any chatter that undermines your reputation and authority can come straight to me for discussion.::

Prowl could find no answer to that, other than a hum indicating compliance. He didn't _like_ it at all. He just no longer had any grounds to object. As the twins had pointed out, no matter what the truth was, what others saw was clear and undeniable. Anything that made them see the truth would cause more harm than good.

* * *

Almost halfway across the planet, a mech was being dragged across the yard by the overseer, being hauled in for another beating and whipping for talking back, when alarms started to howl and the first cries of combat echoed across the camp. 

Jazz looked up into the sky, saw the Aerial units, and twisted away, slamming his pedes into the overseer's chest, getting an enraged roar before the Autobot troops began to swarm into the yard. Jazz stumbled up, limping as he ran, the damaged joint in his hip that had never been fixed sending shards of pain up to his 'net with every step, and dove for shelter. 

This was the attack he'd been waiting for. Now he just needed to survive it. At least no one was going to be actively trying to kill him. The Decepticons would be too busy with the Autobots to care about executing prisoners, and the Autobots didn't shoot if you weren't a Decepticon. At least not normally.

It still didn't make for an enjoyable almost five orns of hiding and almost getting blown apart the one time he'd run out to grab a guttering Decepticon to get enough energon into his tanks to keep from slipping into stasis, and near the end of it, he was starting to worry very much about that possibility, when he heard the cease fire called and looked out to see the remaining Decepticon troops surrendering. 

In the distance he could make out Ironhide and sank back against his hastily constructed shelter to wait until the prisoner round-up began. 

Home. He could go _home._

* * *

Ironhide kept his processors on the job and off the state of the prisoners he was processing. The Decepticons had been finished with first, since they all really were prisoners. Now the much longer and more spark-rending process of sorting out the former camp inmates was well underway. Sorted by faction, condition and designation grouping, very few didn't need medical care and all needed energon, though the survival-threatening damages were few. Not many that badly damaged had survived how long it had taken to secure the camp and the weapons factory under it.

"Designation and faction," Ironhide demanded of the next mech in line, a badly dented and limping grounder with little paint left on him.

"Jazz, Autobot," Jazz said, vocalizer fritzing with static on the syllables, silently pleading that Ironhide would recognize his field, but he had only been in the same room as this particular officer twice. "Special Operations, deep undercover, I need to come back to Iacon with you."

That was enough to catch the big red mech by surprise. Optics locked on Jazz, he commed the SpecOps agent with the assault unit. "I'll be handing you over to them, then," he told Jazz.

Jazz nodded, desperately wishing he had enough fuel to sorcel his insignia back on, but even that small amount was too much. He waited there, Ironhide never looking away from him until the agent arrived. 

Jazz almost cursed. Whippoorwill was not the agent he would have chosen to deal with right now, he already felt like he was going to collapse if he remained standing for too much longer. She was an exhausting creature, demanding and smooth. They normally got along well enough, but right now he didn't have the energy for her intensity. At least it wasn't Mindguard, but that was a small blessing. He'd be facing their resident processor doc soon enough.

"So you're Jazz," her sweet, noble-accent voice didn't conceal the intelligence and quick wit of the owner as she motioned him to follow. "Come then. Flamespire will be here in a few breems. We can talk until then."

"Prowl?" Jazz asked, the only thing he cared about, as he followed as quickly as his frame was capable of. Almost a decade in this camp and anything could have happened, and he'd realized long ago that any searches for him would have been abandoned when he hadn't been taken to same camp as most of the mecha from the captured Neutral camp.

"Don't know that designation," she gave him a sweet smile and sat him down with one of the more recent arrivals, a Decepticon turned condemned camp worker that had severely tweaked the wires of the wrong mecha. Though he wasn't conscious at the moment and Whippoorwill was likely to keep him that way. "What happened?" she asked politely as she handed him a small ration pack to stave off stasis.

"Cons raided the Neutral camp where I was in deep and I left a tracer with the wrong directions," Jazz recited. "Most of the prisoners were taken there, I think, but our transport must have split off, because it was a few vorns before I heard the name of the place and it wasn't the same. Couldn't get out after that," he muttered, consuming the pack immediately. "Didn't have the fuel for it."

Whippoorwill hummed, seeming to accept the story. "What can you tell me about anyone here that might be of interest? Designations I should have Ironhide watch for."

Jazz just stared at her for a moment, exhausted, reactive processors having trouble focusing in on the request for something like designations and intel, because things like _energon_ and _survival_ were still forefront in his focus and just _sitting_ here without having to worry about the guard finding him and punishing him for not working by taking his rations or giving him another whipping or both, when he wasn't in a recharge cycle that was never really restful because of being alert for Decepticons prowling for a toy, was surreal enough that part of him was wondering if it was all a giant, glitch-induced hallucination. Deep undercover wasn't supposed to last this long. Deep undercover in a place like this wasn't supposed to last more than a vorn or two. 

Finally, he was able to focus enough thought around the question to rattle off a few lists--prisoners who were good workers, Cons who were particularly vicious--and by then they could see the shuttle coming in for a landing. He was grateful for that too, because at a minimum it meant a pause in her questions and it might even mean she'd let him recharge. Real recharge like he hadn't had since he'd left Iacon, and it would make the wait to be home feel just that much shorter.

* * *

He was put into holding as soon as they returned to Iacon, and even though he knew the debriefing procedure, knew that he couldn't be given any information except from a designated agent until he was fully cleared, the not knowing was enough to make him want to grind his claws down on the walls. 

"Come on!" he complained to the guard outside his cell. "Just look up _Prowl_ and tell me where he is! Dead or alive, that's _all!_ "

"Sorry mech, you know I can't." The guard did sound sorry, too, knowing what Prowl was to Jazz.

"Does he at least know I'm here?" Jazz asked, almost pleaded. "I'm dead, right? Officially?"

"Have been for vorns," the guard told him. "I don't know if he's been told." His jaw snapped shut with an audible click as soon as he realized his mistake.

Jazz's dark ruby optics narrowed dangerously. "If Whiplash was on site, he'd have been here by now. So he's not on site, which means I could be waiting who knows how long for him to get back and review this and release my hold, which means you have three choices. _Tell me where. The FRAG. My bonded is_ or tell me how long it's going to take for Whiplash to get here."

There was a pause, and the guard shifted to look at Jazz, really look at him, and teek his field. There was fear in him, but not for himself. "I can't and I don't know," the mech said uneasily. "Backup is already coming. Stay still and it'll just be light stasis."

"Choice three it is," Jazz said, and before the guard could react, strong magnets were clamping in around either side of his helm, fritzing his processor, and the slam into the opposite wall knocked him offline. 

Three levels up and Jazz was able to access a location ping from the Autobot information network he'd been able to hack, and his mate's private comm frequency had apparently been changed and was no longer working. 

The Prime's Residence. 

Ten kliks later and he was out of SpecOps and he could already hear the alarms going off in the facility beneath him but he was sprinting through the halls, slipping past guards, dodging through shadows. 

The lock on the last door took him the longest, but even that was hackable to someone who had been trained on Autobot security codes, and it opened a moment later. 

The sitting room past the antechamber was empty, so Jazz followed through into the next chamber--and froze. The moans from Prowl were arousing, but the sight ... his mate's hips were in the air, his chest down and he was taking Prime's spike in with the ease of practice as the much larger mech curled over him and grunted with each thrust. It wasn't even Prowl in pleasurebot or buymech mode. Jazz knew those too well.

Prowl was with a _lover_.

He grabbed for the wall and his step fumbled as he moved sideways, hitting a table and making the sculpture on it fall to the ground with a clatter. An instant too late, as two sets of optics immediately fixed on him, he realized how he still looked: dark ruby optics, stealth frame, breaking into the Prime's private chambers.

Prowl was in front of the Prime in a flash, an energon blade Jazz recognized as a gift _he'd_ given his mate drawn and charged as he stalked forward.

"Prowl," he gasped, as it hit him fully that his mate was _alive_ , everything else be damned, and his hands went up. "Prowl, baby, it's me."

From two paces away, Prowl's field was harsh in its examination. Tricks learned from Whiplash and half a dozen others, an invaluable skill in their business when visual recognition was limited and ID pings were changed at will. The spark's energy couldn't be altered, not against someone who knew all the tricks.

Prowl's frame suddenly began to tremble, his grip on the blade loosening. He knew better, but he couldn't help it. Only the tac-net screaming at him kept him from lunging into Jazz's arms.

"Open. Show it," Prowl demanded instead, but even gripped by tac-net directed survival protocols he couldn't hide that he wanted this to be real.

Barely aware of the Prime who was watching past his mate, Jazz held his arms out and opened his chest plates, revealing the black crystal cage, and used every last drop of extra energon he had to sorcel the triad engraving into visibility in the center of his helm. It dropped him low enough that he would be in stasis in less than a groon and alarms began sounding at him, but he dismissed them, every part of his focus on Prowl. " _I'm alive,_ " he said.

He was in Prowl's arms before the words had completely left, the cacophony of emotions in Prowl's field indecipherable as Prowl's field flooded his exposed internals. "Where? How?"

"Drink," a deep voice rumbled from a bit further away as a cube of high grade was offered.

Arms just as tight around Prowl, face buried against his shoulder as he shuddered and the first relieved sob broke, it took Jazz more than a klik to register the energon enough to take it and tip his head back in a single swallow. "I got taken to the wrong camp, prison camp as a cover for weapons manufacturing, I couldn't get out, I'm sorry, love, I'm so sorry."

"No, my mistake. My lack of faith. I accepted you were gone without proof," Prowl trembled in the grip, as relieved and overjoyed as he was in terrible pain at what he'd done. "So sorry. Won't be me in a klik."

"I--what? I--" Jazz said, alarmed, pulling back to look at his mate, and a moment later, Prowl's frame went limp in a split-moment hard reboot. 

Optimus was there, helping to catch him and supporting until Prowl was standing, and the blank look he was giving Jazz was unfamiliar and alarming. "-- _Prowl?_ "

"He's all right," Optimus said in a low voice, watching carefully. 

Pedefall from behind made Jazz twist around as a team of agents all stormed into the Prime's quarters, two of them grabbing his arms and yanking them back. Jazz twisted, fighting them, gaze locked on Prowl. "No, wait!" 

"Leave him," Optimus commanded. "He's no threat, I will escort him back myself."

"But..." one of the agents objected, then bowed before the will of the Prime. "As you command, Prime."

The unit left, and Prowl, a blank-featured Prowl, was still regarding Jazz evenly. "A great deal has changed in the seven vorns since you were declared DIA. The most significant in this equation is a substantial upgrade to Prowl's tac-net by Wheeljack. I take over when he becomes too emotional to process the environment."

Jazz looked between Prowl and Optimus before settling back on the frame that looked like his mate but didn't sound like him. The voice was the same, but the subharmonics were all wrong. "You--I mean, he--" He looked back to the Prime. "How do I get Prowl back?"

"I was never intended to control the frame, however Prowl's emotional stability issues have necessitated the adaptation on my part. When he has recharged sufficiently to either process what has happened or sequester it he will boot in control of his frame." It explained. "It would be beneficial if you are in his presence and look like yourself when he does so."

"I'm not sure..." Jazz said, with a backwards glance over his shoulder in the direction the agents had left. "I haven't been released from holding yet, I don't know how long--"

"I will see to that," Optimus said. "I assume you haven't shifted because you're too low on fuel." He waited for Jazz's nod. "I will attempt to contact Whiplash to have you released, if I cannot, I see no reason why Prowl cannot boot in holding with you." 

"Thank you," Jazz said, watching the frame that was and wasn't his lover warily. "You're like ... a construct?"

"I am his tac-net's AI, not a construct. I will never be sentient, nor do I wish to be. It is not part of my function to perform without an actual mech to coexist with. My physical and override controls are limited," it explained. "After the first time he crashed we determined it would be beneficial for me to be able to take over motor control long enough to settle his frame safely if need be. As you saw, it is not a perfect transition. However, it has prevented damage on occasion. I am capable of rescuing our frame from danger if the location is hazardous or if he is at risk."

"...Oh," Jazz said. "What ... makes him crash?" 

"Primarily, memories of you or Radiance," Optimus said quietly. "He is incredibly devoted."

"Intense emotional feedback or logic loops," Prowl added. "Remember the hack he wrote for himself shortly after you reached the summer hunting estate of House Marchcry. It was incompatible with the tac-net upgrade, so it was removed. He has written a new version, but he is still occasionally overcome by emotions and shuts down. When I am trapped in a logic loop, much the same happens, though I understand it is perceived quite differently for Prowl."

"Oh," was all Jazz could say, strangely mesmerized by the features and teek that could be so foreign and familiar all at the same time, and he couldn't stop himself from putting his hands on either side of Prowl's face, looking for something, _anything_ of his mate and finding none of it. "How--how long to process?" 

"I do not know," the AI responded without reacting to the touch. "However, I do need to shut the frame down soon. The probability of overheating damage is increasing by 3.9% per klik now."

Jazz nodded, gaze flickering over to the Prime. "Will Prowl remember any of this? After you took over?"

"He will review it when he boots," the AI confirmed.

Jazz hesitated for just nanokliks before facing the AI. "Answer me this and then shut down: What is the Prime to him?"

"Comfort, duty and need," it replied smoothly before walking over to the berth and lying down. It, then the frame, powered down into deep recharge within half a klik.

Jazz watched, shifting uncomfortably, arms around his waist and fighting the urge to go lay down next to his mate. When Optimus's field brushed against his from behind he startled badly, spinning to face the Prime in an instant defense stance.

"Before I take you back to holding, why don't you drink enough energon to shift back, so you can look like yourself when he boots in your arms?" Optimus suggested kindly, not giving any indication he found Jazz's reaction threatening.

Jazz stared at him for a long moment, confused, then his gaze shifted to the side and his field turned sour and brittle. "I haven't, um," he said, mumbling, arms back around his chest. "Already had my ration for the orn, can't take more, isn't allowed."

"By who?" Prime asked softly.

"By--by Rules," Jazz said, staring at Prime like he was short a few circuits.

Optimus gave him a gentle smile. "I am the Prime, am I not? The rules exist because I wish them to exist. Right now, I wish you to drink enough energon to look like yourself for your mate."

Jazz's optics flickered at the formal glyph of _Prime_ and after another few moments, blinked completely off and then back on, his field normalizing again. He looked at Optimus, then a hand went to his helm and he scowled. "Frag," he muttered. "Yeah. Energon'd be good." He watched warily as the Prime pulled another cube of high grade and offered it, holding it to be taken when Jazz was comfortable. 

Jazz snatched it and downed the entire thing, accepting fuel until he was full enough to sorcel back to his Praxian form. He groaned as the shift finished, flexing unused doorwing joints and then reaching up to rub his fingers over the triad engraving that had centered in his chevron. "He knows this shape best."

"Agreed. Knows it and _loves_ it," Optimus offered a final cube of regular midgrade. "Now, why don't we be kind to the agents twitching just outside my door and go back to holding?"

Jazz shot a grin that held no honorable intent in the direction of the door. "Wanna see how much they fry when they realize I sorcelled without being officially released?"

Prime could teek his intentions well enough and simply shook his helm with a chuckle. He moved to pick up Prowl's limp frame and lead the way out.

When the door shut behind them, they were the focus of four very unhappy agents. "Where is Jazz?"

"He had a flashback and escaped through a vent," Jazz said seriously. "Prime is lucky I was there. Schematics show he should come out somewhere near base exit, if you get started you might be able to head him off."

It would have worked if Prime hadn't made a choking sound of disbelief and _stared_ at him.

The unit leader narrowed her optics at Jazz and growled. "I really should beat you to scrap for that one."

Jazz grinned and waggled his fingers at her. "Spoilsport." 

The other three agents, who had all been imagining having to catch a rogue agent stuck in a flashback loop, _glared_ at him.

"I won't object if you cuff him this time," Prime said slowly. "Though I have doubts that it would do much."

"Maybe not, but it might slow him down for a klik." The lead agent huffed and grabbed Jazz to cuff him. That done she glanced at Prime. "Did he really have a flashback in there?"

"Hey, personal questions!" Jazz objected, testing the give of the restraints, as Optimus nodded once. 

The lead agent frowned, nodded back, and the entire procession made the long way back down into Special Operations holding. Optimus walked right into the cell with Jazz and helped settle him and Prowl on the narrow, unpadded berth, and then locked them in himself.

* * *

Jazz was relaxed, half sitting up to give his mate's doorwings a gentle support and hold him for the long joors until he felt his mate begin to boot again. In that timeframe he'd been told that Whiplash would be back near the end of shift to talk to him, and Mindguard was only holding off so Prowl could see him when he booted up. It was more consideration than he deserved, to be honest, more than most got, and he was grateful for it.

Prowl's field, long since the first part of him to be able to feed information to his basic processors, reached out to teek who was holding him and caressed Jazz in a welcoming love that was all from the spark.

Pale ice blue optics flickered to life several kliks later and immediately focused upward.

"Hey?" Jazz said softly, half asking, fingers dancing lightly over Prowl's frame. "Y'with me?"

"Mostly," Prowl murmured, staring up with a wild mixture of hope, fear and acceptance. "Jazz. Alive. I was ... wrong."

Jazz pulled him up and shifted enough to press their chevrons together. "I got lost, not your fault. Almost died anyway, net result woulda been the same."

"Should not have believed you deactivated without proof," Prowl murmured, relaxing in his mate's arms and field. "After all we survived, I shouldn't have believed you would without me there."

Jazz just shook his head and x-vented. "Too many random things can happen and they recycle the frames." He shuddered. "There's a camp near ours--anyone who can't work fast enough gets sent there, think it's for that." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Hafta work fast 'nough, bad luck if a guard wants a frag an' y'don' pull 'nough."

Prowl shuddered. "I'm glad we found your camp and I deemed it valuable enough to hit."

Jazz's hold tightened and he nodded. "Missed you," he managed. "Hope I'm still..." He trailed off, shivering. "Prime ... seems nice?"

"He is a good mech, and very lonely. As was I, without you," Prowl lifted himself up to catch an awkward, soft, upside down kiss.

Just _that_ was enough to make Jazz shudder and moan. "Wanta have you," he said, voice low and hoarse. "Not a good idea yet."

"Why?" Prowl quivered with want at the idea.

"Needta see Mindguard first," Jazz murmured. "Keep jumping between profiles." He huffed a laugh. "Don't want to suddenly think you're a guard." 

Prowl winced. "That is not good. Is it happening often?"

"Often enough that I'm not going to fight her about it," Jazz grumbled. He sighed, stroking Prowl's helm. "Tell me about this tac-net until she gets here?"

"Of course," Prowl drew Jazz's other hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles before he began to talk, filling the time with a useful, fairly safe subject where they could simply be together.

* * *

Jazz did his best not to twitch as he followed his mate into the main base, then to the officer's quarters. Not just the junior officers either, but an area were where doors were fairly well spaced. This wasn't part of the base he ever went to normally and it felt vulnerable.

Open spaces, and the _looks_ he got from everyone who either looked because they didn't know who he was or pretended not to because they did. Getting noticed hadn't meant good things for him for a long time, and not having anywhere to duck for cover when someone looked for a little too long was dangerous. 

Mindguard was good, the profiles had been firmly separated and locked away beneath layers of passcodes, there weren't flashbacks, but not even she could erase a decade in a prison camp. He stayed very close to Prowl. The sheer number of salutes his mate had to return was a solid indication that Prowl had power here.

Prowl stopped them in front of a door that belonged to quite a high ranking officer given the space around it. "Palm it. I want to be sure you've been cleared properly."

Jazz did and the door opened immediately to him. Prowl gave a satisfied nod and they walked in, Jazz immediately scanning and canvassing the entire entry/sitting chamber. He could see the doors that lead off to two additional rooms. It wasn't nearly as large or luxurious at the Prime's, but vastly larger than what they were going to share in Ops. Neat, sparse, perfectly clean and looking barely lived in. "What exactly is your rank again?" Jazz asked, stepping around. 

"Lt. Commander. I'm SIC of Autobot Tactical," Prowl said smoothly as he also swept the room by habit, though not in the detail that Jazz did. "I kept your things in the office." He moved towards the right hand door.

Jazz's vents caught for a moment. He hadn't thought of something like _belongings_ in so long, but following Prowl through that door, watching him unlock the top drawer in the desk, and pulling it open, he was suddenly wondering how he'd gone an orn without some of them. 

Prowl knew the possession that Jazz would want to see first, and it was coiled perfectly within, long, dark, and glittering, still with the golden _Saxo_ engraved on the handle. 

Jazz traced the entire length before his fingers slipped around the familiar grip and he lifted, bringing it to his lips. "Thank you for keeping it safe," he murmured, sighing against it.

Prowl leaned in to kiss his mate, the whip between their mouths. "Always, my love. My Last Wishes included a request to be interred with these things if possible, since they could not be with you."

The kiss deepened and Jazz wrapped the whip around Prowl's neck, tugging it and pulling him in close. "They belong with you as much as me," he said, nipping at Prowl's lip. "I'm glad you had them."

"As am I," Prowl moaned softly even as his engine revved. "You leave me in a terrible quandary however. I want to reclaim every pleasure we know _right now_ , but I have not recharged more than a few joors since you left with Whiplash to be debriefed." He sighed and rested their forehelms together, chevron centers perfectly aligned. "I'm fairly sure you haven't gotten much more."

"I haven't," Jazz murmured, hands tracing over Prowl's frame, wanting every part of him. He claimed another kiss, and this time, the tap of a cable against Prowl's chest came with it. "I remembered who I was by remembering _us._ Memory share with me, then recharge, then everything else?"

"Gladly," Prowl moaned and exposed his dataport as he guided his mate to the berthroom through the entry/sitting room. The padding, while not as fine as the Prime's, was flier grade and suitable for a mech of Prowl's rank. It sank under them, supporting their frames gently. When the hardline was completed, Prowl had hundreds of good moments queued and ready. From the sweet playfulness of courting to the intensity of their first moment as a true triad when the coding roared to life for both Prowl and Radiance to every-orn moments of enjoying each other's company.

The energy and all the moments bounced back and forth, looping and lifting their charge, and Jazz moaned softly. ~Missed you, miss him,~ he breathed, shuddering from the joy of the first time he'd kissed Radiance as a legally bonded.

~Will never forget. We are triad. Forever. Love him. Love you. Miss him. Miss you when you aren't here,~ Prowl rambled, his joy at having his mate in his arms once more overlaying everything. Here there was no way for Jazz to doubt that he and Radiance, even long-dead Radiance, were his _love_ , many orders of magnitude more important to Prowl's spark than the Prime.

Jazz just nodded, sobbed, and clung to him, everything he might have said spoken a thousand times over in the memories, whispered, cried, screamed in ecstasy when they had been whole and complete and together, until the ricocheting feedback of energy crested and broke over them, Radiance's cry in their minds, and when it faded, there was deep, peaceful recharge.


	47. Rebuilding Relationships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twincest warning begins here

Sideswipe led his outwardly reluctant twin along behind him towards the race track, knowing full well that Sunstreaker had actually started to look forward to their races with Prowl, and not only for the practice they both got from it, but for spending time with their sire. Even better was that it was time when they didn't have to talk. Neither side had pleasant things to talk about with the other often.

They were through the gates and on their way in, when the wall they had just walked by suddenly whistled at them and they stopped, seeing Jazz stepping away from it.

"What do you want?" Sunstreaker growled. While relations with their sire were improving, those between the yellow twin and their carrier were decidedly not.

"What would you say if I told you I can get you top quality high grade?" Jazz asked cheerfully, unfazed.

Not even Sunstreaker could stop himself from looking interested, and Sideswipe didn't even try.

"What do you want for it?" Sideswipe asked, cautious but willing to do business with the mech.

Jazz gave a casual shrug. "Want you to win the race," he said. "Don't even really care if both of you come in before Prowl, just so long as no matter what, he doesn't finish first."

The twins looked at each other, then Jazz, bewilderment flaring in their fields. "We always race to win. What's so important about this one?" Sideswipe asked.

Jazz grinned. "Just want him to lose this time, is all, and there happens to be high grade in it for you if you make sure he does. And if you hadn't noticed yet, he always races to win, too."

"He's blasted good at it too," Sunstreaker huffed.

"Okay, you're on," Sideswipe offered his hand to shake on the deal. "We'll _make sure_ he doesn't come in first."

Sunstreaker gave his twin a glare but didn't say anything.

Jazz accepted the handshake, visor flashing mischievously, before nodding to Sunstreaker and slipping back to head up towards the observation decks.

"I think we should get Prime out to watch the end of the race with him," Sunstreaker said with kind of an odd harmonic.

Sideswipe stared at him as they walked. "What the Pit for?"

"Don't tell me you don't notice how revved up Prowl gets racing. Maybe they should know who he really wants to jump," Sunstreaker muttered, suddenly no longer sure of the idea or why he was loyal enough to Prowl to want to know. Or was it that he hated his carrier enough to want it to be Prime?

Sideswipe was still frowning. "Yeah, but then why would he care about Prowl win--oh. _Oh._ " His face split into a grin. "'Cause if he doesn't win he's still unsatisfied." He poked at his twin over their bond, questioning his indecision.

Sunstreaker hunched a bit. "It'll hurt _somebody_. Just maybe not the right somebody."

"Sure this isn't just your way of showing you care?" Sideswipe teased.

Sunstreaker sneered. "Not about Jazz."

Sideswipe swung his arm around his twin's neck, yanking his head down and rapping his knuckles across the top of his helm, still dragging him along, ignoring the shouted protest. "Come on, Sunny, you're always punching me and I _know_ that's your way of saying 'I love you bro!'" he cackled. "Sure, let's call up the Prime, but _you_ can have that job."

"Fine," Sunstreaker growled as he squirmed and shoved his way out of the grip. He pinged the Prime, absently wondering when he'd become so familiar with the powerful mech that he was willing to. Not that many vorns ago he would have been half-panicked inside talking to him, and now he was completely at ease when Optimus's voice replied after a klik, and the Prime readily agreed to come watch the race when he was free. 

Halfway through the laps, Optimus made his way up the observation decks, finding Jazz already there. As soon as he came into view, the SpecOps mech's head turned sharply towards him with a flash of his visor, and then his wings lifted with a tense quiver.

Before his Prime upgrades, Optimus might not have even noticed the lift, and if he had, it would have been written off as a startle response or possibly stress, but with the immense social upgrades, reading the nonverbal language in winged builds had become as easy as if he'd been created one of them. 

What Jazz was currently showing was a warning.

_Back off, he's ours._

Lacking wings to respond with, Prime did the next best thing and inclined his helm in acceptance. "I was never a replacement for either of you," he said gently.

"I know you weren't," Jazz said, turning back to the race, though his wings didn't settle. "Prowl would never do that. What _he_ was to _you_ , though," Jazz tilted his head slightly and quirked a grin as he followed the racers with his visor. "That's less certain." 

Optimus sat down nearby and watched the race. "By the end, he was a comfort I had grown hopeful might stay through the war. I knew better than to hope for more than that."

"Because he's ours," Jazz murmured, resting his chin on his linked fingers. He was quiet for a few moments, wings relaxing marginally. "I don't care what you had with him, or what you did together, or even how either of you felt ... but know that if you try for him behind my back I _will_ come for you." He gave the Prime a flashing grin. "Even if I wouldn't blame you. Mech's awfully hot."

"Going behind someone's back has never been my style," Optimus pointed out. "There is even less point of doing so with your mate. He'd tear me apart for it before you got a chance to." He fell silent for half a lap as Sideswipe overtook Prowl and edged ahead again, with Sunstreaker half a length behind them. "I was safe for him, because I could never be a threat in the Well to his triad."

"So I heard," Jazz said, reclining and propping his pedes up on the guard rail in front of him. They watched in silence for a while, and Optimus noticed Jazz's wings lifting a little bit every time one of the twins was in the lead. He found it strange, but didn't comment. "Can you answer something for me?"

Optimus's optics brightened in a warm smile. "Anything." 

Jazz gave him a suspicious look--the endless love and patience thing still seemed to make him feel more apprehensive than reassured--but nodded and huffed. "Say the Well is real, and sparks go there ... if I deactivate before I bond with Prowl, if _he_ deactivates with me, would my spark go to his?"

"All bonds break upon deactivation as they are a mortal creation," Prime answered seriously. "Sparks are not bound by them with Primus in the Well."

Jazz nodded once, slowly. "All right then." As the final few laps came up, his visor brightened and he stretched, exaggerating the movements and fluttering his wings out before looking at Optimus with a quirk of a smile and a head tilt. "Join me at the finish line?"

"Of course," Optimus smiled behind his battle mask, well aware of the test this was intended to be even though he hadn't been told. He couldn't mind it either if it put processors at rest, although he personally had no doubts about who a chase-revved, catch-deprived Prowl would go for.

They made their way to the finish line right as the racers passed for the last lap and Jazz was practically levitating with anticipation when they came around the curve towards the final stretch, and Optimus saw that the twins together had forced Prowl back and were blocking him from getting ahead. 

Sideswipe hurtled past, then Sunstreaker, followed by less than half a length by Prowl, all three braking sharply as soon as they were over the line. Jazz was grinning, and although he looked relaxed, Optimus could teek otherwise. The mech was excited beyond measure, and the raw, focused hunger Prowl was visibly radiating only enhanced that as the slightly larger Praxian stalked towards him.

Optimus couldn't help but smile that Prowl didn't even acknowledge him on the way to grab his mate and kiss him, hard and demanding. 

"You lost!" Jazz said as soon as Prowl released him, sounding shocked, but the subharmonics were playful, eager. "Babe, I come all the way down here ta watch and you _lost!_ How'm I supposed to think you can keep up with me, hmm, old mech?"

"Because I prove it every night and most mornings," Prowl rumbled, pushing Jazz back against the nearest solid surface, which happened to be Prime's side. The convey class mech held flawlessly still, his field in tight, as to not disturb them. "Going to prove it right now," he rubbed against his mate shamelessly.

"Whoa," Sunstreaker said, simultaneous to Sideswipe's, "Hey now!" making Jazz grin at them, hooking a leg up around Prowl's hip. 

"Right here?" he purred, equally shameless, and when he pulled Prowl in for another kiss, it was angled right for Sunstreaker to have the best view.

Prowl moaned into the kiss and there was the distinctive sound of an interface cover unlocking and sliding back. One hand held Jazz tightly around the waist while the other stroked a doorwing.

"Hey! Get a room!" Sunstreaker snarled between gagging. "We get it, you're together!"

"Prime!" Sideswipe looked at their leader with wide, bright optics, not believing that the big mech hadn't said anything about decorum yet.

Optimus looked back innocently, looking for all the world like he hadn't heard Jazz's cover unlatching beneath the smaller mech's moan. "No one else is using the track," he said calmly. "I am sure if they are going to become an impediment to others wishing to use the facility they will move. Otherwise..." He looked down at the mated pair, his smile lighting up his optics. "I am not inclined to interrupt them."

"Prime's smart," Prowl grinned as the kiss broke briefly and his lip plates moved along Jazz's jaw to his throat. "Haven't made a public claim in too long."

"So true," Jazz moaned, one hand on Prowl's chevron and the other gripping his doorwing tightly as he ground his hips against his mate, valve bared and ready for him.

Sideswipe twitched, torn between staring at what was an undeniably hot scene with two attractive mechs and the also undeniable knowledge that these were his _creators_.

"Come on," Sunstreaker make the choice for him by grabbing an arm and pulling him away. Across bond and field though there was no question that he intended to find a secluded spot to mimic their creators. 

Jazz chuckled deep in his chassis once they were gone. "Should thank them for inviting you, Prime, that story'll get around fast enough." 

"He makes a good wall too," Prowl purred before driving deep into his mate and grinding their arrays together. "You are _mine_ ," he groaned against Jazz's throat.

"I am pleased it will reduce the speculation," Prime said calmly, soaking in the intense love and devotion the pair radiated like the balm it was to his spark.

Jazz's engine gave a sharp, heavy rev. "Yours, ours, always," he swore, rocking back against him, caught between his mate and the Prime, focused entirely on Prowl. "Love how revved you get, babe."

"Don't need to race to get revved for you," Prowl swore, trembling with pleasure and desire. "So good, so perfect," he moaned and found Jazz's mouth again for a kiss as heated as their frames. "Love you. Never wanted to continue without you."

"Glad you did," Jazz gasped against him, and after that, they didn't seem capable of words past the chaotic tumble of _love-want-joy_ in their fields. 

Optimus watched and listened, completely still and feeling his spark calm and smooth from the overwhelming rush of devotion and trust, something felt so rarely these vorns, as mistrust and hurt took over the survivors of their planet. Too few mated sparks, too little love, too much senseless hate, and for the mech who was called to love _every_ spark, no matter the faction, there was little relief from the hurt that had consumed their world. 

That these two, who had as much right to be bitter and hateful and mistrustful as any, were so devoted and loving, their pain falling away when in the other's arms, made Optimus Prime feel a deep need to keep them safe and close to him. He _needed_ them, needed the peace they could bring him with their love. He would willingly be this still and quiet for them anytime they were willing to let him be near.

Prowl's roaring cry broke the quiet grunting first. Energy crackled over his frame as he spilled deep inside his mate, silently pleading for Jazz to fall over the edge of bliss with him.

One more thrust, then two, and then Jazz head slammed back into Prime's side and he screamed, bucking against his lover's spike, caught up completely in that moment. 

Optimus was right there to help support when they slumped, shaking, but he did no more than that until Jazz looked up at him, visor dim and field sated, and flickered gratitude into his field.

"He's a good mech," Prowl mumbled to his mate as he nuzzled Jazz lazily. "No threat. He _understands_ I belong to my triad."

"Good," Jazz murmured, nuzzling back, arms drooped around Prowl's neck. His hips rocked slowly along the spike still lodged him, sending tingles through their frames. "Don' even care if he has you, jus' has to know 'm first."

"I do know," Optimus said warmly. "Even when we believed you gone I knew you were first." 

Prowl gave Jazz a nuzzle and reluctantly withdrew, retracting his equipment as he did so. "Right now, I want to spread out on my berth so I can finish filling you, then ride you and touch your spark until you admit that my endurance is a match for yours," he purred deeply.

"Hafta pin me first if you wanna ride," Jazz purred back, and with a light push, was back on his pedes and dancing away.

"As if you've ever escaped," Prowl actually laughed and ran after his mate, the worries of the world forgotten for the moment.

* * *

Of all the things that separated Prowl from who he had been before Vortex, his need to move on a regular basis was perhaps the most notable from the outside. He could barely make three orns working without having to leave in order to walk or drive--any more than that and he got anxious and twitchy, less if Jazz wasn't nearby. Of course, that was still significantly more than most mecha, so they still thought him a workaholic, particularly when his mate was gone and he had little to distract him from the fact other than work.

Seven vorns after his disastrous stay in a prison camp Jazz was in another deep cover assignment, intended to last the vorn, so Prowl took a break once per orn to spend a joor on the track, and once every three orns to recharge with Prime if he was available. Not that the Prime was ever not available short of a battle raging, which was more than enough to distract Chief Tactical Officer Prowl as well.

The rumors persisted that Prowl had exchanged use of his frame for promotions, but the Praxian's diligent work and the number of lives he saved compared to his predecessor had silenced much of it. The Prime had silenced much of the rest, and those who didn't respect him, didn't tend to live long. For where Prowl's loyalty went, so went the loyalty of his mate and twins. Mecha who had few compunctions about arranging accidents of various degrees of lethality.

This orn was like any other and he was speeding around the track, pushing to his limits on the curves, his spark calming with the speed and motion, with the knowledge that he _could_ move if he wanted to and it was a _choice_ to remain still for his work, something that he had once deeply enjoyed and still did, in moderation. 

When a second driver joined him on the track, about a quarter-length in front of him, Prowl only adjusted his course to allow for the slightly slower mech to continue unimpeded. 

::...Can I come race with you?:: came Sunstreaker's sullen voice over his comm. He was very obviously sulking. ::Sides kicked me out.::

::Of course. How many laps?:: Prowl agreed, only barely remembering to indicate he would _enjoy_ his creation joining him. In the past six vorns the yellow warrior had made an obvious effort to moderate his attitude problems towards Prowl, and Prowl was thrilled for it. Of the pair, Sunstreaker had always reminded him of himself more than Sideswipe had, and the damage growing up and the war had done to him had only emphasized how similar they were in many ways. It was enough that Sunstreaker seemed to almost like him now. He was treated with only slightly more distain and aggression than Sideswipe most orns. To Prowl, that meant a great deal.

::Just until that afthead finds his processor,:: Sunstreaker muttered. ::Maybe a couple dozen. You just happened to get on the track first, got it?::

::It is the truth,:: Prowl responded easily as he shifted his intentions to giving Sunstreaker a good race to distract himself with. The both needed it, with their respective mates out of reach. Truth be told, Prowl was grateful for the company and competition. Racing to _move_ was good. Racing against an opponent was much, much better.

As he passed the driver ahead, he heard an upshift in the mech's engine and for a moment, he was considering asking if he would like to join in their race on the next lap--with a proper start for all three--when something _slammed_ into his rear bumper and sent him skidding. Well-trained reflexes had him transforming to root mode to get pedes under him. It was almost always easier to come to a controlled stop on your pedes than on your wheels. At the same time his sensor suite went fully active to pinpoint who and why he'd been hit, though the sight of the second driver in the last nanokliks of a transformation before diving straight at him, energon blade in hand, answered that question well enough.

The mech hit him full-on and Prowl had his own blaster out in the same instant and they grappled together, the other getting the knife up against his throat and slicing through a non-essential fuel line. Prowl tried to twist around enough for a shot to hit, but the attacker was stronger than he was and built to fight. Struggling, twisting, snarling, it was less than a klik before Prowl was on his back, pinned by the war build with the frame advantage who was straddling his chest, knees grinding into his doorwings, both of his hands caught.

His neck felt hot, hotter than it should have from just the spilling energon. It _burned_. If his hands had been free, he would have been clawing into his own lines at the intense, focused pain.

"Before I kill you, I'm supposed to tell you that your _Master_ says hello," the mech said, grinning viciously at him and prying his knife beneath chest plating, right above his spark. "And to let you know that he's reclaimed what is rightfully his."

Horror washed through Prowl's field at the comment rather than his impending demise. Before he'd processed more than that, there was a flash of bright across his vision and the mech over him was falling backwards. A fraction of a klik later the outraged, protective roar that was Sunstreaker in slaughter mode echoed in his audials as the yellow warrior lunged over him to tear into his attacker.

"Capture!" Prowl keened, desperate to have this mech for questioning.

But it was far too late for that order to even have a chance of piercing the battle-fog in Sunstreaker's processor. When he rose, plating rippling in agitation and stress, the attacker was already starting to gray. 

Sunstreaker snarled at the empty frame before turning to look at Prowl in a rapid damage assessment, and the way his optics brightened in shock and focused on his neck told Prowl that whatever the burning was, it was much worse than a cut into that line.

The twin knelt next to him, carefully gathering him into his arms, cringing as his did. "Gotta get you to medbay," he said. "Don't touch your neck."

"What is it?" Prowl didn't question the statement, order or the movement. He commed ahead a burst summary of what had happened. He wanted SpecOps to secure the body and Ratchet and Wheeljack to be ready in the medbay. A separate comm went to Whiplash, ordering him to pull Jazz immediately because his cover had been compromised and he'd likely already been captured.

"'S corroding," Sunstreaker muttered as all three pinged back acknowledgement, Ratchet's coming with an ETA to his position and an order to the yellow mech to keep Prowl as still as possible. "Probably in your lines."

"Oh," Prowl processed that even as his tac-net took the information and ran with it. Energon flow was restricted, nanites flooded the lines to test for it before the tac-net shut itself down to protect itself from the effects. It left Prowl feeling quite fuzzy and very sluggish. "Explains the burning pain."

Sunstreaker huffed a very forced-sounding laugh. "Yeah, I imagine so. Dirty cheating, using poison in a fight."

"Wasn't a fight. Assassination attempt," Prowl mumbled, his systems warning him that shutdown and stasis were his best survival option to delay the spread of the corrosive. "Going into stasis."

Sunstreaker scowled as Prowl powered down into stasis in his arms, sitting there perfectly still until Ratchet arrived.

* * *

"Wake him up," Vortex growled at the two mechs holding the bound and unconscious mech's shoulders and arms to hold him upright in the kneel.

"Yes, Lord Vortex," one of them responded to the mech they were both grateful was only on the vidscreen and not in person. Running on Con protocols and SpecOps survival protocols, Jazz booted fast, but didn't give any outward sign to his state until he assessed the immediate situation.

Head hanging forward, he couldn't see much but his arms were being held behind him, hands on his shoulders gripping tightly, and the hold on the right was the weaker of the two, less steady and the one to break from if he had to. His wrists were in tight cuffs, but far enough apart that he was going to be able twist his hands around to get at the locks. 

The hum of a transport, and when he onlined his visor, a sheet metal floor. The last thing he could remember before the blow that had knocked him offline was business as usual in the outpost he had been undercover in.

"Did you think I would give up on getting what is _mine_ back, Jazz?" Vortex's sneering, rage-filled voice crackled over the vid-comm.

Jazz froze for just a nanoklik as his field first pulled in tight and flat to his frame and he took that moment to settle the reactive flare that voice caused in him. Then he x-vented, let his plating loosen, and relaxed his field back out, calm and even. He lifted his head with a flashing grin, facing the screen. "'Tex, darling, no one who has _ever_ had the pleasure of 'facing me has ever stopped trying for more." 

The rotor's blades rattled as the pointed barb hit home even harder than Jazz had expected. "Well by now there is one less who will want you again. Corrosive gel is a nasty way to go, but I've learned my lesson. Deactivation will be good enough for him. You're the one I want back alive."

Jazz settled himself with a bit of a hum. "Gonna hafta be more specific, got a lot that want me. I can do this _ripple_ thing, drives 'em wild, and _then_ I--"

"The one who stole you from me," Vortex snarled in interruption. "Prowl."

" _Ohh,_ him," Jazz said, then pouted. "Aw, you got rid of Prowl? He had the _best_ spike, and I mean the _best_ , that mech could make me _scream_ like you wouldn't believe. Didja know in our rebuilds we got pieces designed to go together? Frag that's gonna be hard to replace."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure you scream," Vortex purred. "Show me his chamber."

Uneasy as the pair were, the Decepticons holding him down tightened their grip as a third came around front and jammed a hard metal blade into the seam of Jazz's chest plates.

He winced, grunted, but didn't resist the pull that pried him open, revealing his chamber and the black crystal blocker surrounding it. Visor glowing dangerously, he met Vortex's narrowed optics. "Like it?" he asked, all levity gone from his voice. "Got it just for you."

"I know," Vortex growled back. "I'm going to enjoy cutting it off. You still owe me an heir and I will have it."

"Ooh, threats," Jazz purred. "Remember how much Prowl liked your spark? He taught me how to do the same."

"If you really could challenge me spark to spark, you wouldn't still have that blocker," Vortex sneered. "Enjoy your last joors of freedom. My berth is all you'll know from now on." He glared at those in the room and closed the channel.

"Hey!" Jazz protested, and scowled with an annoyed huff. "Wasn't done with you." He looked at the three others in the room, keeping their attention on his face where he wanted it. "So, my mechs. How's hangin'?"

The one that had pried his chest plates open kept out of grabbing distance. "I hate Ops mechs. Completely glitched, the lot of them."

"Ya' boss made me this way," Jazz chuckled. "He's worse'n me, should look what whatcher workin' for. Hey, next time ya see 'im..." Jazz rolled his head, stretching out his neck. "Tell 'im Prowl fragged me in his berth once, and we didn't clean up my lubricant. Sorry 'bout that."

"He's not our boss," the one standing a distance away said warily. "We answer to Megatron, not the interrogator."

"Ooh, he got the audial of someone big," Jazz said, and settled comfortably. "Tell 'im anyway." 

Before they could respond, Jazz had his right hand out of the cuffs, was grabbing his captor's arm and pulling, using the leverage to swing himself up and about, riding the momentum to bring his pedes around and slamming into the chest of the other. 

The other two shouted and were on him immediately but Jazz already had a blaster from the first mech's subspace out, charged, and it whined sharply as it powered up. They froze. 

"Yeah, I thought so," Jazz said coldly, accent perfect again. "Hold still." The heel of his palm slammed into one helm, his pede swung around to connect with the other, and when the transport's pilot came rushing back a breem later when none of them answered his comm to double check the destination, he never saw the single flight frame taking off from the rear before the tripwire explosives went off, sending the entire craft down in flames.

Jazz watched the transport go down with his rearward sensors as he made a beeline for Iacon and the few mecha he knew he could trust in this. Less than a joor into the flight Whiplash's encrypted ping to abort the mission came through.

Jazz just pushed himself harder. He didn't dare send a reply, not as exposed as he was, burning fuel like this, even as badly as he needed to know what had happened. 

He'd be in Iacon in a little over an orn, if his energon held out until then, which readings were estimating it would. His tanks, primary, both spares and his reserve, were full from siphoning off the transport, and as foul as that fuel had tasted, it was going to get him home in good time.

* * *

Prowl began the slow, medically induced process of booting from emergency stasis even more wary and carefully than normal. His final orders from both tac-net and primary processor indicated that he'd gone down to save his existence by slowing the spread of a toxin. Every single system and line was carefully checked for damage and foreign substances before his frame was allowed to advance to the stage of pumping energon around his systems freely, particularly to his most-valuable processors. That shut-down message overrode the tactical importance of regaining awareness quickly.

A ping on his sensor net alerted him of a significant auditory stimulus and he played it, identifying as Ratchet. 

"Not that you'll believe me without checking, but your systems are clear."

The medic was correct, of course, but the message did give Prowl's gradually growing awareness significant comfort and that much showed in his field.

System after system came back clean and every location that had been corroded showed up as either repaired or in the self-repair queue and rightfully there.

Gradually ice blue optics powered up and took in the main medbay. Orange was everywhere, and the large boxy form of Ratchet nearby. Twitching and agitated but not pacing much, the small, lithe form of Whiplash was a flowing shadow.

Jazz was not in the room.

Prowl fixed his gaze on Ratchet, expecting news so he wouldn't get up and find out himself. Even as he did so he automatically logged into the base network and began downloading all that had happened in his absence.

Ratchet sighed, knowing exactly what Prowl wanted. "We don't know," he said. 

"I sent the abort signal to him," Whiplash said. "Haven't heard back. But that doesn't mean anything. What did the assassin say to you, exactly?"

"Before I kill you, I'm supposed to tell you that your _Master_ says hello. And to let you know that he's reclaimed what is rightfully his." Prowl repeated, inflections, accent and all. "He was sent by Vortex, and by plan Jazz would have been captured before I was attacked," he explained a reference he and Jazz needed no help in understanding.

"Damn," Whiplash hissed. "I'll have reports if he was captured within a few orns, but odds are if he wasn't or got away he'll be back first."

"Jazz is good," Prowl said more calmly than he felt. "It isn't the first time his cover has been compromised. Has there been any progress on how the assassin knew when and how to strike? If Sunstreaker had not been on the outs with his brother I would not have survived."

"No," Whiplash said. "Not officially. My techs are going to let me know as soon as they figure out how he even got into Iacon. Unofficially, either you start bringing those twins with you every time you're on the track, or you change your schedule up so it isn't the same joor every orn. I'm such an _idiot_ for letting you get away with it for this long," he growled, almost to himself. 

"Yes, sir," Prowl accepted without hesitation. "I should have recognized the tactical mistake myself. I will ensure I am a much more difficult target in the future."

"You know, for a smart mech, you do some really dumb things," Ratchet huffed. "Is your scan giving you anything I should look at?"

"No," Prowl sat up carefully, checking that movement did not change anything. "I am sore and need ten joors of recharge to finish the self-repair and repair integration."

"I want you to get more than that. A full orn, no getting up, and definitely no racing. You can take those pit spawn of yours with you then and race yourself out," Ratchet instructed. "I've already corralled Prime to stay with you." He gave a sly smirk. "Which means he'll also get some recharge."

"Or not," Whiplash snickered, though he knew perfectly well what went on behind closed doors when it came to that pair, and that more often than not, it was boring as slag. As Prowl began to stand, still with those same careful motions, the matte black mech went serious again. "I'll comm you the moment I know anything, recharge or not. Up to you if you want to set it to deliver only when you boot." 

"You'd better damn well," Ratchet growled, glaring at them both. "And I outrank _both_ of you." 

"Only by technicality," Whiplash snorted.

"I will set it to deliver when I boot, unless it comes with a priority one signal," Prowl counter-offered. "Use that if he's coming to visit before being debriefed."

"Agreed," Whiplash nodded. "I'll see what shape he's in on arrival."

"Nothing within the ten joor mark," Ratchet counter-ordered with subharmonics of finality in his voice. "I don't care if Cybertron itself transforms into root mode, _you stay in recharge!_ "

"I will recharge better if I know I will be woken up before Jazz walks in," Prowl insisted. "Otherwise I will check every half joor." He shifted slightly and looked down. "Besides, you don't need me to tell you the odds that he'll be here within ten joors."

"Given where he was supposed to be, even Starscream would take most of the orn to reach Iacon after I signaled him," Whiplash added. "Nothing I know Jazz can do moves quite that fast."

Ratchet scowled at both of them. "You remember the rank thing, right? How I _do_ outrank you?" 

They just looked at him. 

Ratchet huffed. "Fine. Priority one signal, but I swear to Primus if you boot too soon and mess with your self repair, I'm _not_ fixing it!"

"I understand, Ratchet," Prowl canted his wings in agreement.

* * *

When Jazz came in for a landing in the main base hanger it was under heavily armed air escort for the last half joor and his spark skipped a beat in joyful relief to see Prowl standing there, waiting for him. Almost absently he noted that Whiplash, Mindguard, Prime and a couple agents capable of putting him down fast were also there.

When he banked lightly, making a clear course shift to touch down in front of his mate, and no one moved or ordered him to stop, he took it as implicit permission to continue on his course and he shifted back into the Seekerkin root mode that was his current appearance, practically landing on top of Prowl and grabbing him in a hug. 

This close to his mate, he finally let the trembles into his field, the panic that just seeing that face still caused, no matter how well he knew how to hide it or ignore it. Worse had been the promise of Prowl's death and how coldly and smugly it had been delivered.

Prowl's field reached out to his, first confirming that it was Jazz, then drawing the taller mech close and crooning wordless reassurance that he was all right and _he_ was far away.

::He said you had deactivated,:: Jazz whispered, cupping his hands around Prowl's face and resting their helms together, with no illusions that this was a private conversation or that he would be given more than a klik.

::It was a near thing,:: Prowl admitted as he brought his hands to cover his mate's, his relief at seeing him just as intense as Jazz's. ::Sunstreaker saved me.::

Jazz's field rippled in a silent laugh. ::How about that. Creations are useful for something after all. I'll have to get armed up and go thank him.:: He took a short, sweet kiss, then reluctantly pulled away and faced the gathered crowd, beaming at them. "All this for me? Y'all must be pretty desperate for a pretty face around here."

::He still likes the really good polish,:: Prowl smiled, reluctant to part but willingly sinking into the Prime's embrace.

"Most of it's for them," Whiplash jerked his chin at Prime and Prowl. "The assassination attempt put everyone on edge. Time for your debriefing."

Jazz stuck his glossa out at his commander. "It's for me and I know it and you can't tell me otherwise," he said even as he followed obediently.

* * *

Sunstreaker scowled at his brother. "You have got to be kidding me."

"I'm not," Sideswipe glared at his defiant, anti-social sibling. "Prowl _needs_ to recharge and he hasn't in four and a half orns thanks to both of them being busy elsewhere. That leaves it up to us to take care of him."

"Why _us_ and not _Ratchet_ and for that matter, why are _you_ even keeping track of how often he recharges?" Sunstreaker asked, almost growling. 

Sideswipe gave him a look of pity. "Because Ratchet doesn't do snuggling, and he's not kin or lover. I keep track because _someone_ has to. That's the mech that keeps us alive, remember? A CTO that can't think is a bad thing. Now come _on_. I'd like to get some actual recharge tonight too."

Sunstreaker snorted. "I could make sure you'd recharge more effectively than _snuggling_ with Prowl will," he muttered, but obediently rose and followed his brother.

"Which wouldn't help with the CTO not getting recharge," Sideswipe smirked as he lead his grumbling twin into tactical. By now the guards didn't even blink at them as they made their way to Prowl's office.

Prowl commanded the door open for them without noticeable hesitation and looked up. "What do you need?"

"For you to come with us so you will recharge and Sides will stop nagging me about it," Sunstreaker said. 

Sideswipe rolled his optics. "It's been four and a half orns and you need regular recharge to do proper defrags. You handle way more data than anyone else here." 

"I do not rechar...." Prowl paused and looked at the pair. "It is your recharge cycle."

"Yep, and you're spending it between us," Sideswipe said firmly with an unrepentant grin. "Somebody has to take care of our CTO, and with Jazz and Prime elsewhere, that means us."

When Prowl didn't move, Sunstreaker marched forward, wrapped a hand around under one arm while Sideswipe took the other, and together they lifted him up from his chair and set him on his pedes. 

"You're going to follow or we're going to drag you," Sideswipe informed him. 

"We like your processor running smoothly," Sunstreaker said. "Keeps us alive." 

"I will walk," Prowl informed them as he immediately assessed that he was going to be going with them one way or another, and really, he _did_ badly need the recharge they were offering.

"Good," Sideswipe brightened and let him go. Prowl didn't resist, walking behind his creation with a somewhat bemused expression that was rapidly shifting to the exhaustion he should have felt a couple orns before. "Your quarters have the biggest berth," he added as he turned towards the officers' wing, trusting his brother to keep Prowl with them. 

"We don't _have_ quarters, Sides," Sunstreaker said, rolling his optics. 

"We have what pretends to be quarters," Sideswipe shrugged. "What am I supposed to say, your quarters have a bigger berth than our assigned slabs?" 

"If it's the truth," Sunstreaker rumbled. 

They made their way to Prowl's quarters and let him palm the door open, standing there until he entered first. It was more than just being polite. Two SpecOps agents lived in this space. A smart mech _always_ let the owner enter first if he valued his continued functioning.

But Prowl just stumbled into the berthroom, his systems beginning the shut down before he'd even reached it.

"Yeah, he needs this," Sideswipe shook his helm and helped Prowl settle before snuggling up on the door-side of the berth.

Sunstreaker nodded in reluctant agreement as he lay down on the other side, curling up behind Prowl. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to be bothered. He had Sideswipe close, they were helping their CTO, and if he was being completely honest with himself, it was ... _nice_ , in a way, to relax with his sire. 

At the very least, he would get to recharge on a padded berth, which was several different kinds of bliss all on its own. 

~Fine,~ he grumbled to his twin, noting that Prowl was already most of the way shut down. ~It was a good idea.~

A brilliant sense of pleasure-smug satisfaction radiated back. ~Now let's get some recharge on a really nice berth while we can.~

Sunstreaker huffed in agreement and settled down with his sire and his twin.

* * *

Jazz made his way up to Prowl's quarters after checking for him in tactical and finding only an empty chair. His interrogation had gone badly--after just barely getting into the spy, learning nothing, the 'Con had initiated a self-destruct sequence in his own spark chamber. Debriefing and investigating how they had missed the small explosive planted within the crystal had taken up the rest of the time, and now he was off duty earlier than expected. 

He palmed open the door to their quarters and went into the berthroom, stretching, then stopped. 

Prowl was cuddled between the twins, deep in recharge. Jazz cocked his head, smiled, and was about to sneak away back to his official quarters in Ops when the red twin shifted, raised his head, and looked over to see Jazz. They stared at each other for a moment. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to disturb, I'll just..." Jazz whispered, pointing to indicate his intention to leave.

"He needed to recharge," Sideswipe said simply, then shifted a bit further towards the edge of the berth. "There's room. You know he wants you there."

Jazz took a step forward. "Are you sure?" He jerked his head at Sunstreaker.

"Don't worry about Sunshine," Sideswipe smirked. "Don't touch him and he's harmless."

Jazz smirked back, nodded once, and carefully climbed onto the berth to settle between Prowl and Sideswipe, snuggling up to his recharging mate with engines that purred softly as soon as their fields meshed together. "Thanks," he murmured.

"Welcome," social training took over. Sideswipe still didn't _like_ Jazz, but the wrongs committed had been a long, long time ago and if he put that out of his assessment, Sideswipe had to admit that Jazz wasn't a bad mech and sire did love him dearly.

That was enough for now. 

* * *

Jazz tried not to lean his chair back and kick his pedes up on the table, but _Primus_ he was bored. When Whiplash had told him he was to attend the next officers' meeting he hadn't been expecting the long, droning reports, and by now he was beginning to wonder why he was even here in the first place. 

From the looks he was getting from the dozen or so other officers around the table, they were apparently wondering the same thing. Sure, as SpecOp's SIC he was a command-grade officer and authorized to be here, but in reality it was only the division commanders that actually attended.

Ironhide finished with his report on weapons production and stockpiles and sat down, and Optimus Prime looked at the SpecOps commander. "Whiplash, your report is next. I believe you have some recent intelligence that is of interest?"

"Yes," the lithe minibot almost purred as he stood, something that immediately alerted everyone, including Jazz, that this was not going to be boring or bad news. "It seems that _Lord Megatron_ is having some internal difficulties. There is a coup in progress, lead by Onslaught. Two other mecha of note are Swindle and Vortex. If Megatron wins, I'm sure Jazz will be the first to know. If he loses, well, the Decepticons have lost their only unifying force."

"Onslaught is a brilliant tactician," Prowl spoke up on something he knew well. "He has great difficulty coping with battlefield chaos, however I will be grateful not to face him again."

Jazz snorted in agreement. "How large is the coup?" 

"Large enough to be of interest to us," Whiplash said. "Five key players with some lessers supporting them have been reported." 

"Any amount of division in their ranks is a plus for us," Optimus said, frowning thoughtfully. "How quickly are we receiving updates?"

"For the moment, as major events occur," Whiplash responded. "They're fighting now. The next update will likely be who the victor is."

"I'm going to have Jazz confined to base, then," Ratchet said matter-of-factly. 

Jazz jerked upright in his seat. "What? Why?"

"Because if Vortex is killed, I want you where I can reach you quickly," Ratchet said calmly. "And because I know you would object to being confined to medbay for so long. I'm being generous." 

Jazz's mouth dropped open. "He could've died any time over the last several _centuries_ and you didn't chain me to base then," he argued. 

"Vortex was not participating in a coup that might suggest his imminent demise then," the medic said, not even looking up from the datapad he was entering updates into.

"He does have a point," Prowl added, eager for any excuse that kept Jazz close.

"Relax, will you," Whiplash huffed at his SIC. "It's not like you had anything off base to do anytime soon. You're past deep cover and spy missions. You're a senior officer now."

"Yeah but it's the principle of the thing," Jazz said, then scowled and slumped back down in his chair. "Race track?" he asked hopefully. 

"Nope," Ratchet said. "Not unless you see my aft out there puttering around, which I assure you, you won't."

Jazz scowled at him, but relaxed very quickly as Prowl's leg brushed against his, and the meeting moved on to the next dull order of business. The rest of the orn went much the same for them, each looking forward to a recharge cycle together and the promise of pleasure beforehand.

Jazz was in their quarters first, though he'd timed it knowing that Prowl would be there to the klik of when he was due, and he spent that time hacking into the lighting systems for the rooms and locking the controls to his command, setting them dim enough that Prowl would be able to see easily while letting the light from his frame stand out. 

After that, he settled himself on the berth, half propped up and chest open, legs splayed apart. He teased his spike out and slid his valve cover away, slipping his fingers in to coat them before stroking himself a few times. Interfacing ports opened, everything about him bared and ready for his lover. When he heard the door open, he let his spark chamber iris spiral open and the flickering light from his spark filled the berthroom, glistening off his spike.

The sharp intake when Prowl stepped into the berthroom was the loudest sound for a moment, then the roar of Prowl's engine overtook it.

"Out to test this old mech's endurance again?" Prowl purred eagerly as he walked to the berth and knelt on it to claim a kiss from his mate.

"I was thinking you could test mine, since you're always bragging," Jazz purred in reply, pulling Prowl down over him. "How about it, lover?" He lifted his hips, rubbing against Prowl. "Take me out for a ride?"

"I'll take you for a ride, drive you hard and know every part that drives you," Prowl rumbled as he rubbed back. "Starting with the spark that has always owned me."

The light flared brightly outwards and Jazz's cry when fingers slipped beneath black crystal to stroke the chamber made everything else vanish until they were both spent and panting on their soaked berth with several overloads behind them. The last shudders faded and Jazz slowly lowered himself down on shaking arms to collapse on Prowl's chest, face against his neck as their frames tried to cool down and still reveling in the intimacy that was the hardline.

"'S good," Jazz whispered with an exhausted grin. 

"You always are, my love," Prowl nuzzled him, his field relaxed, content and utterly sated. "Despite what it will cost Cybertron, I cannot help but hope that Megatron wins."

"I'm ... trying not to hope," Jazz murmured, fingers tracing over the seams in Prowl's chest. "But it's hard. I've already accepted that chances are I will deactivate before knowing your spark, world like it is and with the kind of luck we have ... but maybe just this _once_..."

"We can have what we want so much," Prowl kissed him softly. "I know. We have so much more than most, but we've been denied so much as well. I want him deactivated too much."

"Death at Megatron's hands would be too good for him," Jazz growled. "Slagger should only count himself so lucky if that's how he goes." He sighed, field settling back down, and he could feel his spark _quivering_ in his chest, straining forward. "Just ... maybe this once, _maybe_ ," and he couldn't keep the hope from his voice no matter how hard he tried.

"I know," Prowl gripped him tightly, aching for it just as much as his mate. He slid a hand to the back of Jazz's helm and drew him down to rest against his chest. "Soon. We'll know soon. Recharge will make it pass faster."

"If I wake up screaming you'll know why," Jazz murmured with a faint smile, and settled in to rest with his mate. 

"And I will be here, holding you, offering my spark to fill the tear as soon as I can," Prowl promised with all he was.

* * *

The next orn's news came halfway through the first shift, and when Jazz saw the look on Whiplash's face as he reported to the Prime's office, his spark dropped. 

The summons to join them not ten kliks later was not a surprise, neither was Prowl's presence. 

"We wanted to let you know before the officer's meeting," Whiplash explained. "So it isn't a shock." 

"He won?" Jazz asked. 

Whiplash and Prime gave each other a brief, startled look. "No," Whiplash said. "He lost. They've been overwhelmed and captured."

"But he's still alive!" Jazz's anguish couldn't contain itself.

"Megatron is not known for tolerating such acts," Prowl prodded for information cautiously.

"He is ... _deliberating_ on their punishment," Whiplash said slowly. "That's all we know." He hesitated, looking like he was debating giving the next piece of information, then sighed. "Reports were that he was ready to kill them all when his SIC stepped in and suggested he be more creative, and make an example of them." 

"So he still might die," Jazz said, cautiously, and Whiplash nodded.

Prowl twitched, but held his thoughts. He held them through the meeting, and for the three orns it took for news of Megatron's decision to reach Iacon. In the meeting to discuss that, he merely slumped fractionally in resignation.

"Sensory deprivation, nice," Ironhide said, on the opposite end of emotional reactions. "That's five o'- the worst Cons gone without us havin' ta do a ruddy thing." 

"Deactivated would have been better," Prowl actually grumbled. "They can still be retrieved this way, only they will be even more insane."

"It is not our call to make," Optimus gently waylaid the pending debate about ethics, POWs and punishment in and out of the army.

"And they're conscious?" Jazz asked. 

Whiplash nodded grimly. "Conscious, frameless, deprived of all external sensation, unable to communicate." Many in the room shuddered. 

Jazz turned to Ratchet, opening his mouth for his next question, but the medic just raised his hand marginally, stopping him. ::Later,:: he commed. ::We will discuss options later.::

Jazz nodded, glanced at his mate, and shuddered at the look on Prowl's face. It was not a hopeful look at all.

"How much damage has this done to Megatron and his command element?" Optimus focused on Whiplash and Prowl.

"His tactical division is now short its finest processor and they are now down their best interrogator," Prowl summed it up. "Otherwise, minimal damage by my understanding."

"So overall," Optimus sighed, rubbing at his mask, "We benefited very little from this."

Whiplash nodded unhappily. 

"Then life goes on," Optimus said before focusing on Prowl. "I would like you to look into taking as much advantage as possible of their weakened tactical division before they find someone to replace Onslaught. I would like bi-ornly reports of your analysis, along with any recommendations for action. We may only have a brief window of opportunity here, let's take advantage of it." 

"Yes sir," Prowl canted his doorwings, his complete focus going to his work as he initiated a full tactical uplink to the base's mainframe. It left him all but oblivious to his frame.

Optimus nodded once as Prowl settled into his analysis before looking around at everyone else. "The rest of you, business as usual. This doesn't change anything. Report directly to Prowl if you have any questions on how to proceed. Jazz, Ratchet, if you would stay a moment. The rest of you are dismissed." 

A murmur of acknowledgements greeted that as the officers, including Prowl, filed out, leaving only Optimus, Ratchet, and Jazz. 

"Jazz--" Optimus attempted to begin. 

"I could get over there, break in and kill him," Jazz said, and his engines were growling as Optimus was already shaking his head. "Why not?" 

"You are too valuable, and as much as I wish it could be otherwise, I cannot risk so many resources for what amounts to a personal mission," Optimus said, and there was no hiding the pain it caused him to give that order. 

"And if I go anyway?" Jazz challenged. 

"You will be immediately stripped of rank and forego the right to call yourself an Autobot," was the firm answer. 

It startled Jazz into silence, long enough for Ratchet to speak up. 

"Why did you want me here?" the medic asked cautiously. 

"I know there is a conversation to be had here," Optimus said, looking between them. "All I ask is that it wait until Prowl is fully functioning. I can't have him distracted with this right now. These could be crucial orns." 

"I understand," Ratchet said, and gave Jazz a pitying look. 

"I'm very sorry it didn't work out more as we had hoped," Optimus said quietly. 

"That is _such_ a comfort right now," Jazz snapped before storming out. He walked right into the waiting arms of his commander and was promptly loaded with enough work to distract him for a decaorn.

* * *

Prowl poked his helm into Jazz's office, rather surprised to find the mech in the space that had become the bane of his existence. "Can you take a break soon?"

"No," Jazz actually growled, not looking up, then after a moment his visor flickered and he lifted his head. "Oh. Hello. Yes, _yes_ I can take a break, slag mission reviews. Give me half a joor? Is Ratchet free?" 

"He said he'd make time when we could both get down there," Prowl nodded and stepped fully in. "Anything I'm cleared to help with?"

Jazz waved his hand at a stack of datapads set off to the side, still stacked neatly, unlike his penchant to simply toss them into a messy pile. "These all need reviewed to check for conformation to mission protocol and safety standards." 

Prowl nodded and picked up the first one. "The intel has already been entered into the system?"

Jazz just nodded, already focused back on his reading. He barely noticed the rate his mate went through the reports until the half joor was up and Prowl had finished four and a half reports in the time it took Jazz to read one.

"Ready?" Prowl stood. "I can finish this on the walk."

Jazz tossed his datapad aside, unable to focus any longer anyway and nodded, standing and stretching, equally unable to hide the anxious anticipation in his field and doorwings. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Prowl nodded and walked by his mate's side to the medbay where Ratchet was waiting for them. He motioned the couple into his office and settled everyone. "According to my research, there is no precedence for one spark-bonded mate being in frameless detention and the other not. We literally have no idea what could happen."

"But there are records of frameless detention," Jazz said. He'd seen them himself, but he hadn't had access to medical analysis reports. "What happens to them?"

"It depends on the basic personality of the spark, but eventually all go completely insane from data deprivation," Ratchet said grimly. "It is by far the most cruel punishment ever created by Cybertronian kind."

"He won't have far to go," Prowl muttered.

Jazz shuddered at the idea while nodding in agreement. "But he might not have the presence of mind to attempt to break through an energy block," he said, half stating, half asking.

"More to the point, what can he _do_ with no frame and no ability to communicate?" Prowl asked, focused on the practical.

"Well, a bond is also a thing of the spark," Ratchet said. "There is awareness, and there are memories stored there, as far as we can tell. But your guess as what he will be able to do is as good as mine." The medic shrugged. "It might very well be completely uneventful. I _hope_ it's completely uneventful, if you choose to have the blocker removed, but--" 

"I'm having it removed," Jazz said, fingers tightening around Prowl's.

Ratchet frowned at him. " _But_ the risks could be worse than what you have right now, and I'd like you to discuss it first."

"Then the blocker can be put back on," Prowl said firmly. "Grow one if removing this one intact is impossible."

"I can remove it intact," Ratchet huffed, insulted by the very implication that he could not. "Otherwise I'd make you wait until I had a replacement grown to even try this." He looked between them. "Is that your way of saying your minds are made up?" 

"It is," Jazz said. 

Ratchet nodded. "I'd like to schedule the procedure for when you can both have a few orns off together. While I'm normally not one to buy into the rather ... _sentimental_ notion that having a loved one nearby will help in any significant fashion, in this case, I believe it might be crucial." 

"I wouldn't do it without Prowl within reach anyway," Jazz said, resettling his plating in an anxious shimmer. "I can be available any time, Whiplash has already given open permission for timing as far as this is concerned, barring emergencies."

"Prime has given me clearance for four orns' leave. Tactical is prepared to handle things in my absence," Prowl added. "I doubt anyone who has a clue Jazz has the blocker installed expects us to wait one joor longer than we must to finally have a chance to be together."

Ratchet looked between them then nodded once more. "I'll need to prepare for the procedure, and I have too many appointments today to fit you in. Tomorrow morning, first thing."

"We'll inform those who need to know," Prowl said as he stood, then paused to look at Ratchet. "Thank you, for doing this."

Ratchet scowled at him. "Well you're a patient, aren't you?" He waved them out with his hand. "Go on, get lost." 

Jazz hid his smile until they were safely out of the office, gripping Prowl's hand just a little tighter than when they'd arrived. The excitement and anticipation echoed from one field to the other and back, building until they were both all but giddy when they commed their respective bosses about when they'd be off duty.

* * *

Optimus cautiously made his way into medbay, peeking his head around the corner first and clearing out his vocalizer so as to avoid any flying wrenches that might be coming his way, and when nothing attacked, allowed the rest of his frame to follow. He stepped through the doorway completely, straightening up to his full height. "Ratchet?" he called.

"You better not bring broken mecha to me today," Ratchet growled at him. "I'm busy with _those two_ you brought into my life."

Optimus blinked innocently as he rounded into Ratchet's office, almost running right into him as Ratchet rounded that corner, stalking back out into the main bay. "I don't bring you broken mecha," he said. 

"Somehow, some way, I can always figure out how it is your fault," Ratchet said, fists on his hips as he looked out over the spread of tools he had set up next to the berth. "You lead them, you set Prowl's parameters. It's going to be you that brings me new work."

"I don't mean to," Optimus mumbled, and when Ratchet looked up, he saw the world's biggest sparkling kicking unhappily at the floor. "I want them in good repair as much as you do."

The medic vented a sigh. "I know. I know you'd like everyone to be happy and healthy."

Optimus nodded, then released his own gust of air. "But that isn't how the world works," he recited. "So we do the best we can. I just wanted to see how everything was coming along for today, not exactly a procedure you're performing every orn."

"Thank Primus," Ratchet muttered, staring at the setup. "I'm ready. Just waiting on the mechs now."

"Have you ever taken a blocker off before?" Optimus asked, looking over the spread of complex looking tools. "How does it work? How do you think it'll go?"

"They've been illegal longer than I've been functioning," Ratchet shook his helm. "Before Jazz, I'd only seen images in medical texts. The crystal is grown to match a specific mech and chamber. It either absorbs or deflects loose spark energy trying to cross it. Wheeljack understands it better, but not by much. It's one of those things that we know more about how to create than how it operates. As for how it will go," he fiddled with the tools. "Given their history, the removal will go just fine. It's not actually that complicated. It's the after that I'm worried about."

Optimus sighed in understanding. "Because of where Vortex is." He shook his head, gaze distant. "To force a spark bond on _anyone_ ... much less one so young ... they were never intended to be a _commodity_ like they turned into. I would like to stay and watch, but I don't have the time. Let me know how everything progresses?"

"I'll let you know," Ratchet promised and watched the Prime go. "Big sparkling," he muttered fondly when the mech was out of range.

Not five kliks later, Prowl and Jazz arrived perfectly on time, Jazz's steps light, dancing, anxious as he moved, while Prowl looked as emotionless as he ever did, though the tilt of his doorwings gave it away. 

"Is Wheeljack going to help?" Jazz asked, when he noticed the cheery inventor wasn't there.

"Yes, but he's Wheeljack," Ratchet shrugged and pointed to the berth. "Might as well get you prepped while his distracted aft gets itself down here. Any questions before you go under?"

Jazz sat, but didn't swing his legs up or lay down. "I had to be conscious when they put it on, I'm not going to be for this?"

Ratchet shot Prowl a look.

"We had to keep the block in place until the blocker was installed," Prowl said simply. Nothing more needed to be said to Ratchet.

"No, there's no need for you to be aware of what I'm doing so close to your spark chamber," Ratchet said, putting aside images of having such a thing installed while conscious, while carrying twins no less. "Even if Vortex becomes aware that it is gone, he has no ability to tell anyone where you are or what state you are in."

Jazz nodded and stretched out on the berth, shimmying a little as he did, then shot a grin towards Prowl. "Wish me luck, yeah?"

"You are loved, my bonded," Prowl said instead as he stepped close and caressed a chevron tip. "Relax, and when you boot, we can finally merge."

"Hope so," Jazz breathed, reaching out to grip Prowl's hand, preparing to shut down into stasis for Ratchet when the door opened and Wheeljack finally bounded in. "Hey 'Jack," he grinned. "Check me out." 

Wheeljack's fins flashed brightly. "Look better than the last time we were working on this!" 

Jazz chuckled. "Oh, I was a mess. You can delete those memories if you'd like." 

"Not a chance," Wheeljack said happily. "Gotta keep as many of those as I have left."

Ratchet rolled his optics and gave a silent prayer for patience as he dropped Jazz into stasis, and another for thanks that Prowl had come to trust him enough to voluntarily move away with such delicate work about to be preformed on his mate. It was a far cry from the mech he had first met in many ways. Prowl was much more trusting in general these orns. Less volatile. Colder, too, but Ratchet knew exactly who to blame for that, and it wasn't Prowl. He was about the only one who _didn't_ deserve any blame for that tac-net. A tac-net that saved sparks every orn, but had made an already emotionally and coding unstable mech far worse off.

"Ready?" Ratchet looked at Wheeljack over Jazz's medical stasis locked form.

"Yep!" Wheeljack said and together they began hooking Jazz up to sensors, monitors, a spark flux stabilizer, and on Wheeljack's suggestion, remembering the last time Jazz had had the blocker off, a direct energon line that could be turned on at any moment. 

"Would you like a better look?" Ratchet asked Prowl, fingers hovering over the controls to open Jazz's chest while Wheeljack fished out a small chisel from amongst the equipment.

"Yes," even Prowl's voice displayed a harmonic of gratitude as he moved closer. He was careful to stay out of the way while giving himself a good look at the proceedings. It went surprisingly fast. Wheeljack struck each support that had been melted into place once, breaking the weld. When he was done Ratchet lifted the top half of the crystal cage off.

Alarms on Jazz's vitals went crazy.

"What the--" Ratchet said, as both medics' heads snapped around to look at the screens. "Slag," he hissed. "Look at his spark readings." 

Wheeljack scowled and moved a scanner over the crystal chamber, looking at the readings there. "Give it a klik, that can't be right. He has a perfectly healthy spark." 

But a klik later, nothing was changing, and the spiking readings were just getting worse, and Jazz's field was starting to teek of distress, even in the stasis lock. 

"What's _causing_ it?" Wheeljack asked. 

Ratchet shook his head. "Has to be what's coming over from Vortex. I'm putting this back, that amount of stress is going to damage his spark. Get the hook, I'll weld." He lowered the top half and the alarms quieted, though it took the entire welding process for the readings to finally settle out, and even then, they weren't as smooth as they had been previously.

Neither medic had noticed that Prowl had plugged in and initiated a hardline connection that should have taken a medic's codes to pull off until it was all over with, and then Ratchet simply stared. _No one_ gave their internal connection codes away, not even mates. 

"Hack, or did he tell you?" the CMO didn't quite demand.

"He gave them to me," Prowl said softly from where he was gently stroking a chevron horn, an action that usually helped settle Jazz quickly. "He has mine as well."

Ratchet simply nodded and couldn't bring himself to be surprised by that. "Bringing him out of stasis," he said in a flat voice. 

The hums and clicks of systems booting and syncing up after the procedure filled the otherwise quiet room, and they could tell the moment Jazz came fully online from the startled flare of his field and the way his intakes hissed. "Cold," he gasped, hand shooting up towards the blocker before Ratchet snatched it midair and stopped the motion. 

"You might have some lingering sensation, but that's all it is, lingering," the medic said soothingly. 

"It's still there," Jazz said, static cracking through his voice as he looked at Prowl.

"Yes," Prowl leaned forward to kiss him softly, regret in his field. "Your vitals peaked to near-fatal levels in less than a klik. It would have damaged your spark to have left it off even long enough to tell you."

"Try again," Jazz said, looking between all three of them. "Try again, I can be conscious, I can have better control over what comes in, just _try again!_ " 

"It's too risky," Ratchet said, shaking his head. 

"You didn't even give me a _chance_ \--" 

"Jazz," Wheeljack said quietly, fins a pale, sallow green. "It was bad, it was really bad. Whatever you could still feel lingering from a bond while you were in _stasis_ would be a thousand times worse. You said 'cold.' Was that it?" 

Jazz shuddered. "Cold, afraid, angry." 

Prowl's field gave a sudden pulse of vicious pleasure, causing his mate to look up at him. "Oh, my love, you realize what that means?"

Jazz stared at him before his field flickered in realization and that same savage joy echoed after it. "He's in torment," he said, engine growling deeply. " _Good._ If he isn't dead, at least he's _suffering._ "

"A great deal," Prowl purred. "And if he's not being held in a maximum security facility, he's a much easier target."

"Er," said a voice from behind, and they turned to see Whiplash standing near the doorway, hands clasped behind his back and rocking a little on his pedes. "Came to see how it was going ... obviously not as well as we'd hoped." 

"Not nearly so well," Jazz said, but he still quirked a smile at his commander. "You came to check on me?" 

Whiplash glared at him, but there wasn't much strength behind it. "I put a lot of work into you, I don't want to have to start over." He shifted a little. "And ah, as it turns out, actually, the five that were put into stasis together -- Onslaught, Vortex, Swindle, Brawn, and Blast Off -- they're in the Decepticon Detention Center, in Darkmount." 

"Darkmount," Jazz repeated flatly, smile gone. 

Prowl twitched before his doorwings and helm dropped. "Not even _we_ could get in there, execute and get back."

"Finally, someone from Ops with sense," Ratchet muttered under his ventilations. His attention focused on the utterly paled out look that Wheeljack had before putting it together with where Shockwave resided.

He looked between him, Prowl, and Jazz, and then clapped his hands together. "Right," he said loudly, making them all jump. "I cleared my entire first shift out for this blasted procedure and I've been here for a quarter joor, and the only result is that we all look like we need some good high grade. And I know exactly where to get some." 

"No one has good high grade," Jazz said suspiciously. 

"I do," Ratchet said with a proud smirk as he began unhooking Jazz from all the monitors and released the lock keeping his chest open. As he moved around the berth to work on the other side, his hand slipped onto the small of Wheeljack's back and moved smoothly up his back strut, then up and over one of his shoulder blades.

While Wheeljack leaned into the touch, grateful for the comfort it was, Jazz was pulled to his pedes and into Prowl's arms. The two Praxians meshed fields to a level that most bonded couples couldn't manage outside of a merge and no one doubted that the hardline was fully open.

"You survive. That's the best revenge you can have," Whiplash tried to comfort Jazz as he came close. "Survive and have what he tried to take from you."

Jazz rested his head against Prowl's shoulder and gave the inventor a wan smile. "We have each other," he said, then reached out to squeeze Wheeljack's shoulder. "You too, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll be good," Wheeljack promised. "I made it this far, I'm not giving that one-opticked freak a delayed victory."

Ratchet snorted as he came back out of his office, holding a very full, very expensive flask and noted that Whiplash had made himself scarce. "Do I have to drink this all by myself?"

"Decidedly not," Jazz took in the flask, reflexively placing the maker, type, vintage and relative status both to a noble and currently. "Here I was expecting medical grade."

"Or one of Sideswipe's experiments," Prowl smiled fractionally. "Whiplash is bringing some much cheaper cubes so those who need to get buzzed to oblivion can do so on stuff you don't want to taste."

"Wonderful," Wheeljack said. "Wouldn't want to waste any of Ratch's good stuff."

"I don't think he'd consider it wasted," Jazz mused as all three followed the medic back into his office.

"Not for the first cube," Ratchet chuckled as they settled and he poured five small cubes. "But once you can't taste it, the crude stuff is good to get wasted on. Which is exactly what I plan on making sure happens."

* * *

Three orns later and as far everyone was officially concerned, life and duties had returned back to normal. In his spare time, which was a matter of kliks between being heaped with work from Whiplash, Jazz had reviewed, double-reviewed, and triple-reviewed every single option that was open to him on the matter of reaching Vortex and killing him. 

And in the end, all he'd come up with was the realization that there _were_ no options. Darkmount was not notorious without reason. None of their spies or saboteurs had ever gotten in there, or if they had, they'd certainly never come back out. 

And with Optimus steadfastly refusing to put official Autobot support behind the mission (something that Jazz understood in a very distantly removed, rational part of his processor), there was nothing to be done. 

The end of his stack of reports saw him out of Ops and up into the base, going straight to Prowl's office, and his explosion of everything he'd been holding in since booting back up in medical was audible up and down the hall despite the closed door and reasonable soundproofing of the room.

"That Pit spawned, rusted, fragging glitch!" Jazz shouted, and grabbed an empty cube from Prowl's desk and threw it against the wall, shattering it. "Slag him, slag his glitching 'nets and his rusted, scrapped frame! If I didn't know better I'd think he did it on purpose just to trap me in this thing! When he gets a frame I'm going to cut his slagging lines, I'm going to peel his rotors apart, I'm going to turn him into scrap and then rebuild him and melt him down and then turn him into _more_ scrap, I'm--I'm--" He broke off, gesturing, searching for something else, then cursed sharply and loudly and slumped down into the seat across from Prowl, fuming.

Instead of logic, ideas or even his own feelings, Prowl stood and drew Jazz up so he could settle with his love in his lap and held him. For a few brief, cleansing kliks, Prowl let go. His field _howled_ with emotions running the full gambit as he shared in his mate's state with less violence but no less intensity of his own kind.

Jazz clung to him, not calming in the slightest, but finding a kind of relief in the shared frustration. His face went to Prowl's neck and his fingers found the seam over his chest and pressed down. He x-vented hotly against his mate. "I _want_ you," he whispered, and his field _ached_ with it. 

"Yours," the armor began parting before the words had even been spoken. "Everything I am, everything I have, everything I can give you."

Jazz drew Prowl into a kiss, not even needing to look to slip his fingers into his love's chest and caress the crystal encasing, feeling the warm pulsing of the spark that he'd been so close to and still couldn't touch, not the way he wanted. "I want to give myself to you," he whispered bitterly.

"It is very mutual my love," Prowl moaned at the exquisite contact. "We still have so much more than _he_ would have allowed us. Eventually, Darkmount will fall, and when it does we will be ready. Until then we will defy him the best we can, by remaining free, alive and together."

Jazz nodded and slipped back, dropping into a crouch in front of Prowl and bringing his lips to the crystal, kissing softly. It spiraled open beneath him and he x-vented into the light, a careful caress, before dipping in. "My love," he murmured, tasting Prowl on his glossa, the energy and essence of the mech who was his bonded in every other way. In an act of absolute trust, Prowl allowed his optics to power down, his helm fell back with a shuddering moan and his hands and forearms settled on the chair's armrests.

The signal was much weaker, but here, when spark touched frame, he could also feel his mate, his bonded, his everything. It was a tiny taste of something he was desperate to drown in, but he somehow managed to convince himself that what he had was enough. That this tiny caress was as much as there was to be had. It didn't matter that he knew better, that he knew what a full merge with a mate was, that he spoke of wanting more. This was as much as there was to be had because to admit anything else to his spark was to invite an insanity he knew he could not recover from.

This was bliss.

It was enough.


	48. Making Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hard (creation/creator) incest warning

Ratchet glanced at the pile of work on his desk, glanced at his chronometer, and sighed. A new wave of mecha from the frontline was being cycled through Iacon and he had the unenviable task of having to schedule and prioritize their repairs based on available medics, supplies, energon requirements, and the urgency of the work needing done. 

Halfway through the third shift and he was nowhere near finished. 

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his chin and thinking. This work would be less miserable with someone to talk to, but this late at night...

He smirked. This late at night there was guaranteed to be one mech still awake who shouldn't be, and Ratchet always loved an excuse to go yell at him about not recharging. 

So he gathered up his work, slipped in a cube of high grade and an empty cube to share, and made his way inwards to the Prime's Residence. A glance at the location net that only emergency response trained medics had access to showed him that Optimus was alone, and indeed not in the area of his berth. In an effort at being polite, he chimed at the door as he overrode the general lock with his code and strode in.

Optimus immediately looked guilty. "Oh, hello, you're up rather..." He cleared his vocalizer out. "Late."

"I have this pile of damage reports to sort into a priority list," Ratchet waved his workpad. "What's your excuse?"

" _I_ have a pile of department requests to approve and sort into a priority list," Optimus said, sounding pleased with himself at having such a good match for Ratchet's excuse.

"Then we can finish them with a bit of company to make it go faster," Ratchet huffed, annoyed that Prime _did_ have an excuse that he couldn't growl about much. Not tonight at any rate. "And a bit of high grade as a reward," he added with a motion to the sitting room where they could sit comfortably and work while they talked about nothing important to the war effort.

"I think a bit of company might actually make it go slower," Optimus mused, and smiled brightly through his field. "Though it will make the going more enjoyable." They sat together on the oversized lounge that was large enough to accommodate Optimus's frame, pulling their work back out. "I feel like I haven't seen you outside of officers' meetings for metacycles," Optimus said.

"It's been far too long," Ratchet agreed. "The longer this mess drags on, the less of a personal life any of us seem to have. With one very noticeable exception," he chuckled. "If I didn't _know_ they'd been mated for several thousand vorns, I'd swear those two were mechlings in love for the first time this metacycle."

Optimus hummed warmly, not needing to ask who he was referring to. "It is rather remarkable," he said. "I find them a great comfort."

"Yet you don't take advantage of what they are offering," Ratchet poked gently.

"What they're--Ratchet," Optimus chastised lightly, but there was a very telling flickering blush through his field. "They have no interest in having another in their relationship."

The CMO leaned back and regarded him steadily. "Not as a mate, but you don't want that either. I know Prowl's in your berth when Jazz is otherwise occupied and you both feel better for it. And I've teeked how much lighter your spark is for _orns_ after you've been next to them when they're going at it. Don't you dare tell me you don't want them in your berth."

Optimus fiddled with the datapad he was holding. "It's soothing," he mumbled. "But I can't ask them something like that. They don't need some oversized, bumbling mech teeking at them."

Ratchet scowled. "In case you haven't noticed, they happen to make excuses to lean up against you when they're doing it in public. Prowl _likes_ you, and Jazz is just an exhibitionist. And don't try to tell me that you wouldn't know when they needed to be alone."

"Well, yes," Optimus said, and sighed, subspacing his work. "I had noticed that. ...You really think they'd be okay with that? Being invited here?"

"Primus give me patience for your self-sacrificing creation," Ratchet groaned. "I think you'd know Pit-damned fast if one of them wasn't. I'm damn sure they'd both be okay with it, and I have no doubt at all that Prowl would feel better knowing someone was there for Jazz when he can't be. Besides, you're safe in a way that only the Prime can be for them."

"Safe?" Optimus quirked a look at his CMO. He could think of several ways the Prime would be 'safe' for the bonded couple, but he was curious which one his friend was focused on.

"Well, besides the whole you're entitled to anyone and anything you ask for, and thus their status as a broken triad remains honored, there's no threat of forming a second triad with you," Ratchet shrugged. "For as little as those two pretend not to care what others think of them, it _hurts_ them, especially Prowl, every time someone who believes they should have honored their bond and deactivated with Radiance even looks at them with disapproval."

"Very true," Optimus murmured before his optics brightened and his engine almost purred at the idea of being that close to their fields on a regular basis. "All right, I'll ask. So what about you, is your primary company still stasis-locked patients?"

"As if I have time for anything more," Ratchet groused. "But I have very warm company when I want it."

"Oh?" Optimus asked, all work forgotten as he turned towards his friend eagerly. "Anyone special I should know about?"

Ratchet gave a barking laugh. "Not nearly that special, Optimus. Just a good release for us both when we can match recharge cycles, and you know it's nice to have a warm frame in the berth even when you don't do anything but recharge."

"Hmm," Optimus regarded him with exaggerated suspicion. "If you say so. But you're right, it is nice. It gets nicer the longer this all goes on," he lamented. 

"You won't get any arguments from me on that one," Ratchet agreed with a grunt. "I don't suppose you've managed to get any time in around Bluestreak?"

"Poor kid," Optimus sighed. "I haven't spent much time around him, but what I have..." He shook his helm. "I hate to admit this, but I dread meeting new Praxians. They all carry so much pain with them. Everyone does, but the Praxians ... it hurts to be close to them." 

"I expect Seekers do as well, for much the same reason," Ratchet sighed. "I know it takes a lot out of you, but I think you could really help him, even more than most. With Jazz and Prowl to help you balance and settle more quickly, I think it would do you some honest good to perform healing merges more often. It might go a little ways to helping you cope with being a warrior Prime."

Optimus nodded, staring at his hands. "You said something about high grade?" he asked ruefully. When a half cube was poured and pressed forward, he flared his field gratefully. "I'll see if I can find some free time for him. He's infantry, right?"

"Sniper, actually, and naturally gifted at it. To listen to Ironhide the kid's a natural," Ratchet corrected gently. 

"Has he connected with anyone that you know of? It helps to have a support network after such a merge."

"He's completely latched onto Prowl as a creator-caretaker figure, and damned if I wasn't surprised at how tolerant he is of the kid." Ratchet shook his helm. "I shouldn't have been, not with what I know of Prowl's coding, but I was. I think he's made some connections with Smokescreen and a few others. He's a sociable mech, friendly despite it all. I don't think he's _close_ to anyone, though."

Optimus nodded slowly. "All right. I'll look into it. Prowl's been through it, so if he's taken a caretaker attitude he'll be a good place for support if Bluestreak needs to talk afterward."

"Most do," Ratchet said. "And I'm sure this one will more than most. Kid talks a, well, a blue streak." 

Optimus chuckled. "Indeed." He pulled his work back out and heaved a sigh, shaking his helm as he skimmed over everything from research budget requests to the need for more spare parts sent to the frontlines. "What happened to the orns of going to work, and then getting overcharged in a pub with friends and recharging peacefully every night?"

"Those went out with being a leader," Ratchet said ruefully. "Price of rank and status is responsibility and all that. Not just in the army, either. Though I did a lot less paperwork at the hospital."

Optimus grunted. "Leader of the Autobots, why haven't I invented a position that does my paperwork for me?"

"Because you're a self-sacrificing glitch and we need warriors more than admin," Ratchet grumbled the dual truth. "The position, several of them, exist. It's filling them that's the problem."

"Right," Optimus muttered. "Note to self. Stop being a self-sacrificing glitch."

"Ha! That'll be the orn," Ratchet laughed playfully at him as they each settled back into their reports. "Probably the same orn I get a full recharge cycle without being woken early or having a pile of work waiting when I do."

* * *

Optimus tried not to squirm in his seat under the force of Ratchet's glare. Since their conversation about the possibility of asking Jazz and Prowl to his berth, the medic seemed to have realized just how much good that would do the Prime and now spent every possible moment giving him his best _look_ , and Optimus knew that it wasn't going to end until he'd made the request. 

Since he was fairly sure Ratchet was going to spontaneously develop lasers in his optics very soon, Optimus had decided to approach them at the end of the current officers' meeting, and so, when Ultra Magnus wrapped up his report and sat down and no one else brought anything up, he dismissed his officers, then faced them. "Prowl, Jazz, you would join me in my chambers?" he asked, trying his best to change the ritual command into something resembling a polite inquiry.

The older members of his officer cadre, those who had the education to know what that formal wording and harmonics should mean, immediately perked up and focused on the couple. While their recruitment interview had ensured that everyone knew the pair's background, it was less well known if they respected the ways of a society that had betrayed them so completely. The question most of them also had was if _Optimus_ realized what he was saying.

Prowl, true to form, simply inclined his doorwings and helm in acceptance of the request.

"It is our honor to serve the Prime," Jazz said with perfect ritual subharmonics, copying the motion.

Optimus tilted his helm in acknowledgement and left the room first. Prowl and Jazz waited an appropriate five kliks before following, chiming for entrance when they reached the door to the Prime's suite. The door opened immediately and Optimus beckoned them into the sitting room, where three flutes of a sparkling low grade were set out. Prowl and Jazz took the smaller of the lounges while Optimus sat across from them.

"How may we serve, Lord Prime?" Jazz asked in full formal mode as the ranking one of the couple.

Optimus fidgeted with his flute for a moment. "You can start by forgoing on the formalities, they aren't necessary. Formality may be publicly necessary for this to work, but not here. Not with me." 

Jazz leaned back, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee, relaxing with an arm around Prowl's shoulders. "So informally, why are we here?"

"I believe you know how much ... how good it feels for me to be near you when you are intimate with each other," Optimus looked between them, relieved at the smooth nod Prowl gave as the older mech took charge once more. "I am less certain you understand why."

"I believe I do," Prowl nodded.

"We're hot?" Jazz asked, grinning. "Who _wouldn't_ want to be near us when we go at it?" 

Optimus failed to suppress his smile. "I admit that is also true. However, I was referring to something unique about being Prime. As your mate knows well, I can help heal damaged sparks, which is almost all there is left now. It takes a tremendous amount out of me as their pain becomes my own for a time. Your love, the absolute trust, devotion and affection you have for each other that you so readily express, is a balm like no other for my spark. While I wouldn't say no, I am not asking either of you to interface with me. Only to recharge in the berth with me, to allow me to enjoy your fields together."

Jazz cocked his helm, intrigued. "And interface near you, too, I'm assuming?"

"If you are willing, yes," Prime couldn't contain the anticipation he had to _feel_ that again.

Jazz snorted. "Just you try to keep me from this mech here," he said, brushing his helm against Prowl's. "I'm game, I bet your berth is amazing. What about you, lover?"

"I am willing," Prowl purred and tipped Jazz's face around to claim a kiss. He flared his field enough for Prime to know exactly where he was headed with this so it could be stopped if now was too soon. "Will we be moving in, or keeping the current arrangement of quarters?"

"I will leave that to you, though you are most welcome to move in," Optimus's deep, powerful engine revved hard at the brush of Prowl's field and the question.

"Gotta keep quarters in Ops," Jazz said. "And speaking of, 'Lash'll lash me if I'm late," he sighed, pulling away. 

"One of the benefits of being summoned by the Prime is that you are officially excused from duty until I release you," Optimus said with a chuckle, rising. "But I won't keep you if you need to go." 

"Oh, _need_ is such a subjective term," Jazz said with a grin, field lighting up with the prospect of having an official, bullet-proof excuse to give his commander. 

Prowl responded with another heated kiss as he pulled Jazz to his pedes. "And I can promise that he won't even ask. He recognized the harmonics and phrasing. He knows. Right now I want the Prime to experience us when you take me."

Optimus fought back a moan at the way Jazz's engine revved as he pushed his mate with him into the Prime's berthroom, all but throwing him down onto the berth and climbing over him, clashing their mouths together until Prowl was panting beneath him. "Optimus," Jazz purred to the larger mech who was still hovering in the doorway watching.

"Yes?" the big mech couldn't tear his gaze from the lovers and the intense honesty of their equality.

Jazz smiled down at his love, stroking a finger down the side of his face. "Come lay next to us," he murmured, and took a softer kiss. "Teek his bliss with me." 

Optimus shivered at the tone and the offer before he crossed the room in a few long strides and settled on the berth. He gave them distance, the length of his arm, but it was more than close enough to teek and have that balanced, pure energy wash over him and soothe edges he never thought could be soothed.

"Jazz is so very good to me," Prowl moaned, shameless at being on display in loving his mate. "He touches me the way no one else can."

"Hafta take care of you, lover," Jazz purred, settling himself between his mate's legs, slipping a hand down and rubbing over Prowl's valve cover. "Wanta be in you, let me fill you, babe, please."

"Anytime," Prowl moaned and pressed into the touch as the cover slid open, well-used and maintained. His field flared with eager anticipation and remembered pleasure as he spread his legs further and held himself to give Jazz time and space to do as he pleased. It was always good.

Fingers dipped in as Jazz lowered his helm for another kiss, the thrill of being with _Prowl_ going through his field in a way that no other living mech could come close to matching. "No one knows me like you," he whispered against Prowl's lips, stroking up and down in his valve, and with no warning, took his hand away and drove forward. " _Love,_ " he moaned, shuddering as Prowl lifted his hips to meet the thrust despite the lack of warning.

" _Jazz,_ " Prowl keened and gripped his lover as he hooked his legs around his mate's and their mouths clashed in a fierce heat that had nothing to do with dominance or taking.

Optimus kept the racing of his engine as quiet as possible and basked in the glow of their fields, his own optics dim in bliss. They rocked together and he kept outwardly still while his spark shivered and shimmered in his chest. It felt good, it felt _so good._

Jazz shifted after a while, bringing a cable up and plugging in. "Optimus," he gasped, and moaned deeply. "If you want us in your berth, you have to know we come with our third. With--" 

"--Radiance," Prowl moaned, and Jazz pressed a deep kiss when the connection was made and flooded wide open.

"Remember with me, love," he managed.

"I know," Optimus promised them, reveling in their devotion, their love and pleasure that had survived so much. "He is safe here."

Prowl surrendered completely to the bliss, the memories and his mate with a keening howl as he overloaded as much from emotion as the physical stimulation.

Jazz's cry and the heat that flooded from his mate's overload triggered a second one and the energy that poured off of them, the passion in their fields, was all absorbed by the mech alongside them, who took it deep into his spark and let it fill the aching empty places. 

Jazz collapsed over his lover, cooling fans running at full speed, their fields mingled as one, as close to spark bonded as any two mecha could be that weren't.

"You are amazing," Optimus's voice was rough with awe and gratitude as he reached out and gently stroked along Jazz's backstrut, careful not to touch his doorwings. "Both of you together are simply amazing. Thank you for this."

Jazz arched into the touch, almost involuntarily. "Anything to help the Prime," he murmured, honesty in his field, kissing his mate.

"It feels good to be approved of, just the two of us," Prowl murmured, spent and sated. Knowing Optimus as he did, he knew the mech would understand the pleasure of the mutual giving and healing it brought them both.

Optimus simply smiled and pulsed a little more thanks-understanding through his field as they all relaxed, enjoying the afterglow of such a sharing.

* * *

"Oh please," Sideswipe said, kicking his pedes up on the table and balancing in his chair, fingers linked behind his helm. "Like you _ever_ beat me." 

"You know, I beat you more than most," Smokescreen pointed out, waving the datapad he was working on at him. 

"Yeah but you ain't favored, not by a long shot," Sideswipe said. 

"Favored doesn't mean a damn thing," Sunstreaker grunted. 

" _You're_ both just mad you didn't make the list," Sideswipe said, sticking his glossa out at his twin and their brother. 

"What list?" Bluestreak asked as he walked up, all but bouncing with excitement. "You'll never believe what I just heard! The Prime's _finally_ got a regular berthmate, and he asked all formal like! He needs it so bad, and aren't they just lucky, getting to be with the _Prime_."

"Good for him," Smokescreen said, tipping his helm towards Bluestreak. "I see Whiplash still has you in one piece." 

"Who is it?" the twins asked in unison as Sunstreaker tried to knock Sideswipe off his precarious, balancing perch. 

"Oh, it's Prowl and Jazz," Bluestreak answered the twins before grinning at a floored Smokescreen. "Yeah, Whiplash is great. I'm getting so much better at focusing. He's really good at helping me deal with the nightmares. I guess when you have so many looking to you that do their kind of work you end up with a lot of mecha with really bad data glitches."

Smokescreen stared for a moment. "Yeah, he's ... he's good at that did you say _Prowl and Jazz?_ " 

"Oh please," Sideswipe said with a roll of his optics. "They've been revving for each other for vorns." 

Sunstreaker was scowling and he smacked his twin's arm. "Not since Jazz got back." 

"What happened, Blue?" Smokescreen asked.

"Well I heard it when Ironhide was talking at the range about how Prime invoked some kind of _right_ at the end of the last officer's meeting," Bluestreak was happy to babble about it. "They went to his quarters and they were in there for about three joors and only Jazz left at first. Prowl and Prime did a few breems later. I guess they had a really good time. Prime must have a Praxian's endurance to keep up with both of them," his gaze got a little dreamy.

"A Prime's Right," Smokescreen mused. "Haven't heard that in a while."

"He's the _Prime_ ," Sideswipe snickered. "Of course he has endurance." 

"How long ago was this?" Sunstreaker asked. "Is anyone even sure they 'faced?" 

"Why would he invoke a Right if it wasn't for that?" Smokescreen asked. "He knows the kind of reputation that'll give them. He would've just asked them to stop by. You're sure you heard that right, Blue? _Optimus_ Prime invoked a _Right?_ "

"That's what Ironhide said, and he was there. I can't imagine that he'd lie. He seemed kinda upset about it, but not upset that something was wrong," Bluestreak tried to explain, his features scrunched and doorwings quivering. "Maybe he wanted to be asked? Umm, the officer's meeting was this morning, so ... maybe twenty-four, twenty-six joors ago? I saw Ironhide on the range when I went for my end of shift practice two joors ago. What kind of reputation would it give them? Prime would be an amazing third for their triad, even if he isn't one of us."

All three at the table winced, but Smokescreen's physical reaction was the most dramatic as his doorwings dipped sharply and his field teeked massively uncomfortable. "No, Blue, don't--don't say something like that," Smokescreen said. "They had a third, when they lived in Praxus. Full legal triad bond."

Soft blue optics flashed white with shock and Bluestreak's field flared sharply with distress that his doorwings displayed. The display, combined with Smokescreen's, was enough to garner more than a bit of attention from those who had any clue about wing language.

Bluestreak started to shake. "But... but...." he couldn't even find words for how horrified he was. Not just at his thoughts in the new light, but that they were still _alive_. "If they loved him, like they do each other... how... _why?_ "

Sunstreaker huffed, glancing at his unhappy looking twin. "Because there was no spark bond, all right? It's this whole thing, Jazz can't bond, they were waiting until he could and don't you _dare_ let that get out." He gave the young mech his most threatening look. "I mean it. Not a word."

"They're alive until they can repay those that were responsible for it, and after that," Sideswipe said in a low voice, and made a slicing motion across his neck with his hand. 

Smokescreen pulled a chair out for the numb-looking Bluestreak. "Sit," he said.

Bluestreak complied, shocked to actual silence by what he was hearing. When his processor finally stopped spinning, he focused on Smokescreen. "What reputation will it give them, if they have a third?" he asked timidly. "It's different because it's Prime?"

Smokescreen mused that over for a moment. "...You know, actually, Prime played that really well. If he invoked it as a Prime's Right, they can't say no. They _actually_ can't say no, so their reputation is intact. Well, besides rumors of them 'facing their way to the top but they're already _at_ the top." 

"And there'll be no end to the speculation about what they actually _do_ ," Sideswipe snickered. 

"Well it had better be _nothing_ is all I have to say about it," Sunstreaker snarled.

Bluestreak focused on him. "But why not? If it's okay, legal and all that, why shouldn't they all enjoy it? Well, assuming they enjoy it, but why wouldn't they enjoy it? It's _Prime_. Just _standing_ near him makes me feel better. He's really amazing...."

Smokescreen chuckled and patted his fellow Praxian on the shoulder. "Should we try to convince him to ask you next?" he teased.

Bluestreak quivered and moaned softly, his doorwings beginning to flutter. "Oh yes. I'd love that. Why would he even _look_ at me though? I'm just a rookie sniper, a nobody, and I don't think he likes being around me. Not that I can really blame him, I know I'm really annoying when I can't stop talking and...."

~What has your cabling in a knot?~ Sideswipe poked at his twin as Bluestreak rattled on to Smokescreen, who smiled warmly and listened.

~If they'd said no they wouldn't have been there for joors,~ Sunstreaker muttered.

~Didn't you hear Smokey? They _can't_ say no,~ Sideswipe pointed out. ~More to the point, why shouldn't they enjoy it? They were both there. It's not like one of them was cheating.~

~Oh, _please,_ ~ Sunstreaker said. ~You think if they didn't want to Optimus would have made them stay? And yeah they were both there but why _would_ they stay? It's Jazz, it _has_ to be Jazz.~

Sideswipe scowled. ~Prowl's the one that was in Prime's berth within orns of Jazz being declared deactivated. Maybe Prime gives them something for whatever he's getting.~

~Yeah, and he was back out the _nanoklik_ Jazz was back! You know just as well as I do that Jazz gets the final say in everything they do, it's--~ He faltered for a moment. ~It's like you and me,~ he mumbled, then quickly hurried on. ~So unless Jazz is getting bored with Prowl, why would they frag Prime?~

~Because Prime _asked_ them to and he ranks everybody,~ Sideswipe suggested. ~It's hard to say no to that mech. Maybe we should ask, since neither of us has a clue. Prowl's always been straight with us.~

~You know what? Yeah,~ Sunstreaker said, growling. ~The next time I see that sneaky, scrawny little...~

~Sunny!~ Sideswipe hit his brother hard on the shoulder to knock his processor out of its current alignment. ~That's a command officer you're threatening. I don't want to spend the rest of the war with you in the brig, or worse.~

Sunstreaker was about to snarl back when both twins noticed Smokescreen and Bluestreak staring at them. 

"You two, ah, all right there?" Smokescreen asked. 

"Fine," Sunstreaker muttered. "Just fine." 

"Uh-huh," Smokescreen said, not convinced.

"Sunny here's just having a _moment_ ," Sideswipe added in a loud whisper.

"Don't call me that!" Sunstreaker did snarl and lunged for his brother in a full familial rage.

"Hey!" Sideswipe yipped, then growled back and fell into the wrestling fight with gleeful gusto.

"Are they always like this?" Bluestreak asked cautiously.

"Pretty much," Smokescreen sighed and smoothly pulled Bluestreak out of the way of a sudden shift in the rolling mechs.

* * *

It had taken nine orns to find Jazz somewhere Sunstreaker was actually allowed to be when he was also off duty or otherwise able to get to the location. Right now it seemed like too perfect an opportunity to miss. Jazz was in one of the general training rooms. Not even the officer ones, or down in Ops, but the same set of chambers that Sunstreaker used to fight when there wasn't a battle to keep him busy.

He also knew that Prowl was recently in tactical and probably deeply immersed in his work, so he would have as much time as he wanted to tell Jazz _exactly_ what he thought of this stunt with Prime. 

Jazz was fighting a drone, unarmed to the drone's dagger, and as soon as he heard the door open behind he paused the program and turned, and surprise flickered over his face. "Sunstreaker," he said flatly.

"You have some explaining to do," the larger yellow warrior growled in the full menacing display that had been perfected in the fighting pits, refined in the arena and expected in the war.

"...Uh _huh_ ," Jazz said, looking him up and down and settling back into a deceptively relaxed stance. "Why don't you try snarling what I'm supposed to explain, first?"

"Being in Prime's berth," Sunstreaker snapped and stalked closer, his field warning of his close-to-unhinged state. "Isn't Prowl good enough for you?"

Jazz couldn't quite stop the laugh. "You're here because you think I'm giving Prowl up for _Optimus?_ " he said, and started a careful circling of the former gladiator. "You get hit a few too many times? Circuits finally loose?" 

"What other explanation is there?" Sunstreaker snapped as he joined in the circling on pure reflex, not even thinking about it as he judged combat worthiness, strengths and weaknesses. "Unless it's Radiance you're trying to leave behind. He always _was_ with Prowl, not you."

Jazz's outraged shriek split the air as he attacked, claws out, going right for the face. Sunstreaker stopped the claws with his arm and Jazz sank in, using the leverage to pull himself up, slashing with his other hand. "Don't you _dare_ talk about Radiance like you know anything!" he shouted, only absently noting Sunstreaker's surprise at the extent of his savagery.

"Maybe if you weren't a glitched freak I would have!" Sunstreaker roared back, drawing his face and vulnerable optics away while he grabbed Jazz's neck with his free hand and squeezed. It was a grip long perfected to cut off dataflow and energy, dropping a mech into light stasis within a quarter klik if done right.

Jazz grabbed at the hand and wrapped his legs around just one of Sunstreaker's and yanked back, toppling the larger mech and landing a punch square across his jaw. "Maybe if you and your slagging brother hadn't acted just like your _fragging sire!_ "

"That's right, blame a couple new sparklings for _your_ problems." Sunstreaker used the momentum to curl his free leg to land knee-first on as much of Jazz as he could. "You were the one who _let_ him get you sparked up." He slammed his upper body down, causing Jazz's armor and arm-strut to creek ominously. _You're_ the one who couldn't tell your sparklings apart from some monster." He swung a hard punch, ignoring the slicing of claws through his face-plates. " _You_ are the one who Could Not Kill _Him_."

"If you had _any_ idea what I lived through just to keep you _alive!_ " Jazz snarled. "I should have just let Prowl abort you when he offered, everything would have been _so much easier!_ " Jazz dug into the neck, slammed up with his leg and the blade that shot out from his knee, but no amount of thrashing could get him out from beneath Sunstreaker. The frontliner was too big, too heavily armored and far too angry to care about damage.

"You should have!" Sunstreaker roared back and pounded into Jazz's face with a fist. "You should have killed us when you had the chance! But you couldn't do that, you couldn't even let your mate merge with you _once!_ How can you love him when you couldn't do _that_ tiny thing!"

Jazz groaned, helm thrown back, helm dented from the strength of one of the few mecha alive who could rival his armor. The tension drained from his frame and his visor flickered oddly as he looked up at Sunstreaker, who was snarling down at him with the last traces of recognition and sanity fleeing. "Fine," Jazz hissed. "So say I don't love Prowl, why the _frag_ are you even here, huh? Something you _want?_ " A smirk split Jazz's face and he pressed his hips up, grinding against his youngest creation. "Go on, everyone else wants to."

Combat-white optics had no recognition behind them. The field of the mech that powered them was wild, lacking completely in the markers of a sentient being. This entity understood only three things. To fight. To _take_. To fuel.

With the sudden submission of the frame under him, Sunstreaker's spike slid out. One hand grabbed both of Jazz's to pin them while his other hand reached down to rip the valve cover away.

Jazz's muffled his shriek by biting down on his lip and the visual of Sunstreaker above him was cut with flashing memories of Vortex. "Knew you were just like him," he gasped. Pain tore through him as the big spike rammed in, spreading him open ruthlessly. It was rough and suitable to a mech larger than Sunstreaker, crafted to make a good display in the arenas that liked this ending. Designed to draw just enough energon for the crowd.

Sunstreaker just grunted as he thrust, taking a pleasure in the mixture of all the terrors of his life that had hardened him and pouring it into abusing the frame under him.

"No wonder you couldn't just--leave me alone," Jazz managed, clinging to the frontliner, sinking into the armor and holding on, fighting off flashbacks of a spike larger and harsher than this one. It _hurt_ , and part of it felt _good_ to let this hurting creature hurt him back. Above him the bright yellow monster, and it truly was a mindless monster ultimately of Jazz's creation, only grunted and thrust, the charge in its system rising quickly.

A distance away, Jazz heard pedesteps running in, a single mech of good size, and the gasp of raw shock that froze the newcomer in his place.

He vaguely wondered what the view was like from where the mech was standing when he felt Sunstreaker snarl and tense above him, rhythm breaking, distracted. "Finish it," he hissed. The newcomer came close enough for Jazz to recognize Sideswipe and it wasn't hard to work out what had drawn him.

Suddenly Sunstreaker was pounding away again and strong black hands grabbed Jazz's battered helm to tip his face back. A spike as large as the one between his legs, burnished brilliant red with a jagged black bolt down each side was pressed against his lips.

"You want it finished, we'll finish," Sideswipe hissed.

"Finally," Jazz snarled, baring his denta at the red twin before opening his mouth. 

He choked at the first push--it had been millennia since he'd taken anything that big that fast--but he'd had a smaller frame than this, even then, and this spike didn't tear into him when it came back out. Fingers flexed in Sunstreaker's grip as the pin was transferred smoothly to Sideswipe's knees. A sharp engine whine was lost beneath the roars of the two above, and Jazz didn't fight any of it. 

Intake flexed, valve cycled, and he gave his power and control away to his creations, he'd be whatever they needed. In that distant place he'd retreated to, he saw them lean over him and kiss, their hands moving with the attention of long-time lovers. Sunstreaker's field began to normalize even as Sideswipe's jacked up, and between them they teeked aroused but no longer insane.

Sunstreaker moaned into his brother's mouth and Sideswipe's arousal shot up, driving his hips harder, faster, matching his brother's pace.

The jumble of memories eased somewhat, seeing that, seeing they had each other, and slowly, Jazz relaxed, his claws retracted. He could live with being the enemy. He was strong enough for that. The abuse of his frame was going to help all of them some way, he wanted the release that he knew was coming, could _feel_ was coming, and he moaned in anticipation for it. 

And some small part of him, some sliver of his spark, was _validated._

Sunstreaker's hands went to Jazz's hips and gripped them, crushingly tight as he gave the last few thrusts with grunts that turned into a bellow with the first flood of hot transfluid. Right on cute Sideswipe's pace shifted, and within a couple strokes he was pumping crackling fluid down Jazz's throat, driven as much by his brother's overload as his own.

~Again?~ Sideswipe pushed through the bond when Sunstreaker finally stilled, panting above their carrier.

~No,~ the younger twin murmured. Not that his arousal was cleared completely, or the rage, but he'd settled enough.

~Punishment won't get any worse if we do more.~ Sideswipe leaned forward to kiss him. ~It's not like we're going to get out of the brig anytime soon. Not after this.~

~You shouldn't have.~ Sunstreaker murmured despite his gratitude that his brother had joined in. It had probably saved Jazz's life, which meant it had saved theirs.

~Yeah, but what's the point of being free if you aren't.~ Sideswipe cracked a grin and pulled his hips back, freeing Jazz's mouth.

Jazz pulled a gasping, much-needed intake, flooding his systems with cooler air and shuddering, caught between lingering arousal and his entire frame aching. He lifted his helm to look at Sunstreaker, plating heaving as it tried to flush out the heat. "Get what you wanted?" he asked dully.

The yellow warrior looked at him, then pulled out, leaving a trail of transfluid from Jazz's valve. He was silent for a long klik before x-venting harshly. "What I want can't be had."

"Can't get back some things," Sideswipe shrugged before wiping his spike clean with a rag he pulled from subspace while his brother did the same. "I think you know that better than most."

"Don't you...." Sunstreaker growled at his brother, only to still from a simple look. "Yeah, don't have to like it."

"Nobody does," Sideswipe shrugged, looking down at Jazz. "We won't fight security, but they'll probably send half a dozen anyway."

Jazz just shrugged and rolled onto his side, steadying his frame before he pushed himself up onto one arm. Transfluid began to leak from his abused valve, but it was the least of his concerns. "And we're not, by the way," he said, looking over his shoulder at Sunstreaker. "Fragging the Prime, that is. We recharge and interface in his berth because our fields help him. Our fragging _love_ helps him." 

"You know I said ask _Prowl_ ," Sideswipe groaned at his brother in exasperation. "Seriously, I swear you're trying to get us executed sometimes."

"Like Prowl would know if Jazz was hurting him," Sunstreaker huffed. "Mech's blind to him." 

Jazz couldn't quite stifle his snicker. "You won't get executed. Honestly you're only really in trouble if someone was monitoring the right cameras. You think I'd report that?"

Two bewildered sets of faceplates focused on him.

"Why wouldn't you?" Sideswipe stepped into his role as speaker for them. "I've got a pretty good idea what happened before I arrived," he motioned at Jazz's battered frame and what he'd seen.

Sunstreaker shifted uneasily. ~Planning to get even on his own.~

~So we'll be dead without the trial. Probably better.~ Sideswipe could only shrug.

"Yeah, and?" Jazz said, gingerly feeling over the worst of the dents. "Wouldn't be the first time." His voice dipped into a low mutter they could only just barely hear. "Strong enough to fight back now." 

"Still not stronger than me," Sunstreaker growled and suddenly Sideswipe had him by a helm fin and was dragging him away.

"Don't you _dare_ try for round two after he let us go," the red twin hissed harshly.

Jazz just watched them go before looking back down at himself and shuddering. ::Prowl?:: he whispered. ::I ... need help.::

::Where are you?:: Prowl asked, and Jazz knew he was already moving for the door to whatever room he was in at the moment as well as pinging the mainframe for Jazz's location.

::Same place as you left me,:: Jazz said, and couldn't help his self-deprecating smile. ::Little bit worse for wear now.::

::Who's not coming back from the next battle?:: Prowl growled, furious and demanding even as he accessed the security logs to the training room.

::No, no one, you don't--:: Jazz said, and remembered the logs a moment too late. ::Prowl, love ... just let them go, don't do anything.::

Jazz knew the instant Prowl saw the who because the comm line went completely dead for a full quarter klik.

::All ... right.:: Prowl replied, shaken as he forced himself to move again, still watching the fight from the vid download. ::Jazz!:: his mental screech when he saw it turn into something more than a fight was of pure horror just before he burst in, the door only barely opening in time.

Jazz winced. "Can you ... possibly ... not mention my designation when those logs come up missing?" he asked, carefully prodding at the dent in his helm.

"Love, you can't even stand. I don't think we can keep this out of medical," Prowl said gently as he knelt to carefully assess the damage he could see, a sudden calm moving through him as he was faced with the immediate task of helping his injured Lord. "You made the right choice, giving in. He would have torn you apart if you hadn't submitted. When his glitch acts up, he can't control it any more than you or I can when ours do. It's an autopilot. Now Sideswipe, he _knew_ what he was doing, but it was probably to calm his brother down." His hands continued to explore, pausing when he reached where the valve cover should have been and realizing it had been ripped off. A glance around told him where it was. "If you don't press charges it can be made to go away, but I don't know if I can stop all inquiries given your injuries."

Prowl hesitated, thinking as he spoke. "Unless you're willing to tell _Ratchet_ that this was entirely consensual."

"I started the fight," Jazz murmured, then hissed sharply as very careful, gentle fingers touched the bruised lining. "And goaded him on. Sure, fine, I'll tell him it was consensual. Or that I couldn't see who it was. They don't deserve blame for this."

Prowl nodded his acceptance. "Better to say it was consensual. If it is unknown it will set off an investigation. I am going to call Ratchet. You shouldn't walk."

"Was hoping you were going to say I could walk it off," Jazz muttered, idly watching his vision feed glitching as he turned his helm from side to side. He hacked his way into the security network to look up the logs and began entering the override codes to delete them. "Thank you for coming," he murmured, leaning against his mate, as his frame began to protest holding himself upright.

"Always," Prowl murmured in reply. They held there, still and supporting each other and their strange, glitched and very dysfunctional family in silence until the medics, lead by one very unhappy Ratchet, barged into the room.

* * *

"What do you think he has planned for us?" Sideswipe asked absently as he made his way to one of the officer's training rooms where Prowl had asked them to meet him.

"What would I do if someone treated you like that?" Sunstreaker asked in return. 

"He's not that good, not against both of us," Sideswipe pointed out with a shrug.

"Not if he doesn't fight fair," Sunstreaker said, and resettled his armor tightly around himself. "Which I wouldn't." He thought about it for a few moments and the piles of mecha he'd left behind in the past for lesser offenses than the one they'd committed. "Maybe it won't be _quite_ that bad."

"Yeah. Doesn't seem his style though," Sideswipe muttered before shaking himself out as they paused in front of the door. "Ready?"

Sunstreaker rolled his optics. "When am I _not_ ready?" he asked, palming at the door and finding himself only half surprised when it opened to his authorization. 

"I did request your presence," Prowl said from inside. He was alone, settled calmly in his warm up sequence. "Come in, we have things to discuss."

The twins approached cautiously, scanning the layout, available obstacles, and overall tactical structure of the room as they moved closer to Prowl, stances that almost looked calm, but to their sire, were actively prepared for defense. They both twitched slightly when they heard the door lock behind them. Neither were sure whether to be relieved, shocked or concerned to find the space functionally devoid of everything. It was an empty room with a mech to one side of the training circle. Nothing that would normally be unusual, but was more than a little unnerving given the setup.

"Jazz is calling what happened consensual," Prowl dove right into the subject matter as he motioned the pair to take their places. "I know roughly a third of what happened on his side was related to his glitch. I want to hear your side now."

Sideswipe glared at his twin. "Yeah, why don't we go over _our_ side of it." 

Sunstreaker glared back. "Well I already told you _he_ wouldn't have a clue, so I had to ask Jazz!" he said, gesturing at Prowl. 

"Because _that_ went well," Sideswipe muttered, and then they both looked at their sire and the focused patience on his face and cringed a little. "It started when Bluestreak came in talking about a rumor going around that the Prime had asked you and Jazz to his berth. _I_ wanted to just leave it alone--"

"--You did not!" Sunstreaker said. 

"I did too," Sideswipe retorted calmly. " _Sunny_ here thought it had to mean that Jazz didn't want you anymore or that he was using you to get to Prime or some crazy notion, I don't even know. I told him to ask you about it." 

"And I decided to ask Jazz instead," Sunstreaker shrugged.

"Looking for a fight, or because you truly don't trust my assessment?" Prowl asked calmly.

"Not ... your _assessment_ , necessarily," Sunstreaker said slowly, carefully. "I just ... I don't know how clear you think when it comes to Jazz. You'd let him get away with anything." 

"And he wanted a fight," Sideswipe said. 

Sunstreaker glared at his brother.

"He allows me to get away with anything as well," Prowl said simply. "Something I have taken advantage of more than he does. I do understand the need for a fight. Did you get what you needed from it to be calm around him for a while?"

"Yes," Sunstreaker rumbled triumphantly. 

"What do _you_ get away with?" Sideswipe asked curiously. "It just looks like him 'facing around behind your back from the outside."

"Every time he is away from base I'm with Optimus," Prowl pointed out. "Which is something a good deal more of a gift given his 'facing around is more about a glitch than what I do with Prime." His gaze turned serious. "Vortex did a lot of damage to his coding, and I did more getting the three of you out alive. What we have may not be normal out here, but it works for us."

The twins glanced at each other. They could understand that, better than most. 

"He said something like that," Sunstreaker mumbled, looking at his pedes. "About what it took to keep us alive." 

"Right before he said he wishes he'd aborted you," Sideswipe hissed.

"Which came after Sunstreaker accused him of trying to replace our deactivated third," Prowl actually growled, his doorwings lifting in a distinct threat-rage posture as his optics flashed. "I don't expect you have the Praxian coding to grasp what that means, so here it is a way you might. It is at least as bad as being accused of trying to replace a deactivated twin. We are _shunned_ simply for not following Radiance to the Well." Prowl took a step towards them with a hint of the madness that knew all too well in themselves, and especially in Sunstreaker. "It is good for you I was not there or you would not have walked away from saying something like that about our third. _Radiance is our third, alive or not_. Triads do not end with deactivation."

They flinched away from that rage in someone they knew full well _could_ follow up on that threat. Jazz was fire and uncontrolled rage that funneled into physical attacks. Those were easier to fight. Prowl was cold and calculating and when he decided to destroy something, it was destroyed. 

"We'd never mean to..." Sideswipe said. 

"Not about you," Sunstreaker muttered, and his twin elbowed him sharply in the side, getting a growl in return, and then a reluctant, "Or Jazz." 

"And we do," Sideswipe added quickly, very obviously trying to change the subject to something that wouldn't get his idiot of a brother killed. "Have some of the Praxian coding, that is. At least, we think we do."

"Time will tell," Prowl forced himself to calm down. Jazz was letting it go. Radiance would insist that they did. He needed to. "If you have enough to matter, you'll be drawn to a third that suits you both." He regarded the pair quietly. "Likely something of a homebody, with high intelligence and a caregiver inclination."

Sunstreaker snorted. "That sounds boring as Pit, Prowl."

"Seriously," Sideswipe grinned. "Why aren't we expecting an exotic dancer, here?"

"Because coding does still draw us to form a triad with similar characteristics to the Seekers we descended from. Praxians are far more relaxed about the roles in a triad than Seekers are in a trine, but the stable ones all have the same traits present. There will be a leader, a long range guardian/hunter and a caretaker of the home and creations. Since neither of you are the caretaker type, that is what Praxian coding would draw your towards."

"All long as they can be a sexy as Pit dancer, too," Sideswipe said, shrugging at his twin. "Whaddya think?" 

"I think you should focus a bit more on surviving the war," Sunstreaker growled. "We can buy fragging dancing lessons if it's that important." 

"Ah, but nothing dances like a mecha who _enjoys_ it," Prowl purred deeply, his tone speaking of very personal experience as arousal flickered across his field. "You really should have seen Jazz before the war frame. He was _stunning_."

Sunstreaker made a strange noise and his face contorted a little. "Don't need to think about that, Prowl," he said, as Sideswipe made a similar expression.

An evil little grin crossed Prowl's features and his doorwings perked up just a tiny bit. "Just stop thinking about him as your carrier for a bit and appreciate the _lines_ he has. The sense of balance on a pole is amazing. We had one installed in our first real apartment. He used it to _very_ good effect when he wanted to get me riled up enough to fill him to bursting. He was very good with that." He paused and cocked his helm thoughtfully. "I bet there's plenty of scrap laying around that could be forged into a solid pole for our berthroom, too. He hasn't danced for me in far too long. I'm sure Optimus would appreciate the effect as well."

Sideswipe actually _did_ hum and cock his helm. "Y'know, without the war upgrades, actually..." 

Sunstreaker gave his twin a chagrined look. "Stop that! Oh, _gross_ , stop _imagining_ that!" 

"Well _you're_ the one that _fragged_ him!" Sideswipe shot back. "For Primus's sake!"

"That was--you _know_ what that was," Sunstreaker snarled, and then looked startled, and the disgusted look came back. "Would you _please_ stop imagining that!" He gave Prowl a pleading look. "Don't you have more yelling or something?"

"I think this is a rather better punishment," Prowl chuckled with dark amusement and pinged them a folder of high-quality vids and images of Jazz dancing, not that the twins recognized most of the frames. "Perhaps you should come by to watch him sometime."

"He's ... really good," Sideswipe said, scrolling through without checking any of the other tags, and Sunstreaker hesitantly looked with him. 

Prowl knew the moment they ran into the first blatantly explicit dance, recorded in Simfur, because they blanched together and choked. 

" _Prowl!_ " they protested. 

"He is exquisite, isn't he?" Prowl responded, undeniably proud of his mate and pleased to share that pride.

"Yeah but not like--well maybe to _you_ he--but not with his--" Sunstreaker stammered. 

"-- _Whoa,_ " they said in unison, and Sideswipe grabbed his twin's arm. 

"Right," he said, voice unusually strained. "We're, ah, we're leaving. Right now. Sunny? Follow please!" 

Sunstreaker allowed himself to be dragged away, optics still bright as he stared as the video running in his main processor.

Prowl chuckled as he watched his youngest creations escape through the door and pinged Optimus with a non-urgent personal comm request.

* * *

"Well color me surprised, look who it is!" came Ironhide's drawl as Jazz entered the common rec room and headed for an empty table. His voice was too loud for it to be an accident that most of the room heard. "I thought he spent all'a his free time on his back!"

The others at his table, a mix of unranked mecha and some junior officers, looked at each other a little nervously about the idea of mocking a department SIC, but with Ironhide's command rank, they seemed to decide it was acceptable and snickered along. 

"Nah, sometimes I'm on my knees. Prowl likes that too," Jazz responded cheerfully as he relaxed in a nearby chair. "You should try it sometime. Your aim might get better if you got laid now and then."

Ironhide looked startled at the comeback for a moment before he snorted. "Way I hear it, it's more'n jus' Prowl enjoys your services. Your self-respect might get better if you closed 'em for half an orn."

Jazz hummed as if he was considering that, then shook his helm. "Nah, I like it the way I am. Jealous, big boy? Can't find anybody willing to spread your legs?"

"Not ev'ryone feels the need to act like a buymech," Ironhide growled. "An' what self-respectin' Autobot likes to get his _helm bashed in_ just for a lousy 'face?"

Jazz paused, then scowled, though he kept the flicker of protective anger for his creation to himself. "You seriously can't tell the difference between foreplay and a victory 'face? No wonder no one will touch you."

" _I_ heard you told Ratchet it was a consensual frag," Ironhide shrugged dismissively. "And I get some when I want it, I just don't feel the need to _parade_ my parts around base like a glitched-out pleasurebot. Much less lower myself to accepting whatever you like to."

"It's consensual when you agree to it for the terms of the spar," Jazz shrugged, then cocked his helm. "You're glitching because Prime asked me an' Prowler to his berth and never asked you! You _are_ jealous! Or is it because you're one of the few who hasn't gotten between my legs, mmm? Feeling left out, are you?"

"What?--I, no--what?" Ironhide spluttered. "No! I just don't think having a _freak_ like you wandering around base looks good on th' Prime! Don't think everyone doesn't know th' freakish things you get up to in yer berth!"

"But you need to bring it up," Jazz actually purred as he rolled in the chair to sprawl seductively across it backwards. "What's your _need_ that isn't getting fulfilled? That is what you need buymech for, after all, and you think I'm one. So what is it you need a freak to do for you?"

The room had gone silent over the course of the exchange as everyone stopped pretending they weren't listening and actually began openly looking, most optics on an incensed-looking Ironhide, who was staring open-mouthed at the SpecOps mech. 

"That is _not_ \--" Ironhide growled. "I mean, I don't--no! That is just--just--it's none of your business is what it is," he finally muttered. "Some of us actually know the difference between public and private."

"You're the one that brought it up," Jazz pointed out reasonably. "Though if you really need to finish negotiations in private I can do that, but it'll cost you extra."

Ironhide spluttered for a few more moments, then stood with his palms flat on the table. "Ahm not gonna sit here and listen to this," he growled at Jazz, then stalked his way to the door. "Fraggin' indecent."

"Come back when you're ready!" Jazz waved after him cheerfully before settling back in his chair the way it was meant to be used and humming happily to himself, pretending to ignore the stares but silently making note of which mecha had which expression. More than a few looked, well, interested, and Jazz couldn't hide his grin.

* * *

It was quite a few orns later when Jazz and Prowl entered the Prime's quarters once more. They hadn't had any more work that usual, but Prowl could be possessive when lower ranked mecha had their hands on Jazz and their spikes in him and Jazz had been busy getting his freak on with various mecha who had approached him after his very public verbal sparring match with Ironhide.

The Prime wasn't in, but when they entered the berthroom both immediately took note of the addition: a very solidly secured dance pole. While it had been buffed and polished to a fine shine it also had the distinctive coloration of metal that had been through battle and acid rain. A piece of scrap then, not even good enough to salvage, but good enough to make a pole out of.

Jazz's visor brightened immediately and he wrapped his arms around Prowl's waist from behind and bit down lightly on his shoulder. "Was this your idea, then, lover?" he purred.

"Yes," Prowl purred back, pressing into the contact. "Had a little chat with the twins and it reminded me just how enjoyable it was to have a pole in the berthroom. Prime quite agreed it seems."

"Mm, so I guess I get to see how much of this I've forgotten," Jazz chuckled, looking the pole up and down. "Wow, I haven't pole danced in ... what, millennia and a half?"

"Far, far too long," Prowl rumbled, delighted and excited that Jazz responded so favorably to the small gift. It wasn't much, not in Prowl's optics, but it was more than he'd been able to give in a long time. He turned in his lover's arms and kissed him soundly. "Now, what rules are we playing by?"

Jazz nipped his lower lip. "How about the rule that you can't laugh while I try to remember which way is up on that thing," he said, teasing himself. "Mm, and no touching until I touch you first." 

"Agreed," Prowl gave his love a last kiss and backed away to lounge on the berth. "No one will laugh at you here."

A half grin crossed Jazz's face as he went up to the pole to examine it, getting a feel for the texture and diameter, then giving it a few hard tugs to make sure of its stability. "Wait until I fall on my aft and _then_ tell me that," he said, then jumped up, grabbing hold. Prowl heard the hum of magnets engaging and Jazz stuck there for a moment, then climbed up before spinning around, holding on with one hand and bracing against his pedes. 

His purring engines were already audible. 

"Even that you'll manage to make seductive," Prowl's engine rumbled in reply as he eagerly watched his lover begin to move and the joy it brought Jazz to dance once more.

It became very quickly obvious that Jazz was far more focused on the actual dancing than actively trying to arouse his mate as he went through old routines, stretching and twisting through the dances, moving to a silent beat. But even that, even just the dancing, had always been designed to seduce, and when he did a spinning flip so that he was hanging upside down, knee crooked around the pole, one hand sliding along its length while the other held on behind his back, his engine revved. "Oh, Ops training works _so well_ for this!" he all but cheered, and the next set of spins and twists were dizzying.

"He is amazing," Optimus's low rumble to Prowl was intended not to startle the dancer at having a new admirer.

"Yes, he always has been." Prowl purred with utter pride at the smooth movements. "Today's rules are no laughing and no touching until he touches. Though the second one might not apply to you."

"I imagine not," Optimus chuckled, moving into the room. Jazz offered him a grin and a wave but stayed focused on his movements while the larger mech moved to settle behind Prowl on the berth. "I can touch you, though, yes?" he rumbled, hands slipping easily around Prowl's waist. 

"Nothing below there," Jazz said, and slowly lowered himself back down to the ground. Back to the pole, wings flared open and wanting, he lifted his hands over his helm and dimmed his visor, starting to move. 

He moved around the pole like it was his partner in the dance, caressing and stroking for tantalizing kliks before hooking a knee around it to help him spin, then lowering himself down onto his back. His hands went down along his frame and his legs lifted up and open. Magnets on the bottoms of his pedes fastened down and he pulled himself up with them until his weight was on his shoulders and he was grinding against the pole, and his fingers started to trace his spike panel.

Within three kliks Prowl let a whine of _want_ escape and he pressed back, against Optimus, grinding against the larger mech almost as wantonly as his lover was the pole.

Jazz purred as the cover slipped back, but he moved his hands away and lowered himself back down before spinning up to his feet and beginning the dance again. This time, when he shimmied up and down, they could see his valve was bared and glistening in the light. When he thrust his hips against the metal, he left it wet and dropped to his knees, running his glossa up along the spot, licking it clean. 

Up and down along the pole, around it, a mix of dance, training, and raw seductive pleasure taken just from the act itself, and by the next time he paused to gather himself, facing his lover and the Prime, his spike was almost halfway out. He thrust forward into the air, helm thrown back, until he heard Prowl's next whine and lifted his helm to look.

The Praxian was trembling, rubbing against the larger mech at his back with his optics locked onto his love. Valve bared and spike standing hard and proud, he was openly and silently pleading for Jazz to join him.

"Aw, lover," Jazz purred, and pushed away from the pole to glide forward. "But I'm havin' so much fun with your present." He dropped down to his knees in front of him, and brought his lips just _almost_ to the spike, x-venting hot air from his engines directly onto the sensitive, aching metal.

Prowl arched with a moaning keen. "Please," his field flared out, expressing just how badly he wanted his mate to _touch_.

" _Please_ , is it," Jazz breathed, rising smoothly, and very carefully stepped onto the berth, pedes on either side of Prowl's thighs, and swayed his own hips as he stroked his spike. When Prowl twitched, Jazz grinned down at him. "I suppose you did get me a very fun toy," he said, and carefully lowered down so that his valve hovered over the tip of Prowl's spike, close enough for the Praxian to feel the heat but still not touching. "Should I make it all better, babe?" he purred, looking into optics that were not fully focused, then lowered himself down, sinking onto the spike in a slow, controlled motion.

Prowl's arms shot out to wrap around his lover as his hips rolled up, using Optimus as a brace that gained so much from their passion and how freely it flowed from their devotion to each other. He pressed his face against Jazz's chest, kissing as he urged Jazz to move.

"Shh," Jazz soothed, arms circling around Prowl's neck and helm, rocking so, so slowly. "Let me take care of you," he whispered, kissing the top of his lover's helm. "Make you feel _good._ "

A deep, trembling moan escaped Prowl as he leaned back a bit to comply. "You always do," he gasped out, reveling in the physical pleasure, the presence of his mate and the soothing warmth of the Prime's field as they wrapped around each other in the building bliss centered on Prowl.

"There you go," Jazz murmured, and settled in there, focused completely on easing the ache in his mate's frame, rippling his valve around him and running his glossa up along one side of the chevron every time he pushed up, swirling around the tip and sucking as he held there, spike barely inside him. He repeated that over and over, caressing the other half in his fingers, while his free hand wandered over a doorwing. 

Optimus watched and teeked, quiet and still, but his field quivered as it mixed with theirs, the sensation heightening every time they were fully joined and he found himself looking forward to the moments when Jazz would sink back down as much as the lovers were. As much as Jazz was forcing a slow pace, he was just as wanting as his mate was, and it was beginning to show in the trembles of his frame. 

No matter which one of them started out in control, no matter the context or intensity of that control, they equalized by the finish, Optimus had quickly learned. Slow or fast, he loved watching it happen and feeling them come into perfect, devoted alignment every time. Such perfection had been rare before the war, and now was a blessing of the highest order for a Prime who needed it so badly.

It wasn't long before Prowl's moans took on a new harmonic, a warning that his ability to control his frame was slipping.

Timed down to the nanoklik, Jazz's hips shifted so he could fully impale himself and he drove down, shuddering with each push, until he was completely lost to the motions. "Prowl," he moaned, helm thrown back. "Prowl--Radiance, _Prowl!_ " 

Prowl's deeper voice chanted right along with him, their voices matched when they called out to their lost mate, mingling their designations when calling the other. The designation turned into a scream when Jazz toppled over into overload, his mate going with him. Energy crackled through them, pumped in liquid form directly into the most sensitive sensors in Jazz's frame as Prowl held him tightly, words reduced to harmonics of bliss and unity until Jazz collapsed against Prowl and Prowl sank back against Optimus.

Optimus's hands slipped around each of their waists and he moved to help settle them in his berth before he curled beside and around them, basking in the glow of their fields as they slipped into recharge.

* * *

Prowl was gone on assignment for longer than he'd ever been since becoming the CTO and Jazz had tried, unsuccessfully, to recharge in his personal quarters in Ops for the last three nights. 

Three partial, fitful recharges and he was halfway into the fourth night, and couldn't even bring himself to shut down. The berth was cold and it hurt being alone in it like this. Sitting up, he wondered when that had started, when he'd become unable to recharge without another warm frame there. 

He gave up and made his way up out of Ops and back into the old archive building, heading for the very center to where Prime's residence had been constructed and where he'd recharged for most of his nights in Iacon, hesitated, then pinged an entrance request.

There was nearly a full quarter klik delay to the response, then the door slid open for him. "Come in, Jazz," Prime's deep voice rolled out from the berthroom. "I hope you've come to recharge with me."

Jazz entered slowly, a little unsure about being here without Prowl, and crept to the berthroom, then lingered in the entrance. "I ... if that's all right," he said, shifting his weight from pede to pede.

"It is," Optimus assured him. "You are always welcome here. It is why I gave you the codes to my door."

"Right, yeah," Jazz said, offering a half grin as he walked over. "I wasn't sure if that counted when Prowler's away." He climbed into the berth and settled down with distance still between him and the Prime. 

"It does," Optimus did not cross the distance, respecting Jazz's need to find his own way. He merely extended his field and allowed that warmth and support to speak for his willingness to be what Jazz needed tonight. 

Jazz shifted a little restlessly. "Tried recharging in Ops, didn't really work."

"That is what brings Prowl to my berth when you are away," Optimus said. "I understand it has been a long time since either of you voluntarily recharged apart."

Jazz barked a laugh. "The last time we _voluntarily_ recharged apart I was a youngling. And ... I guess it was easier, with Radiance. Not that if we had any real choice about it we weren't all in the same berth."

"It was still warm and he was safe," Optimus suggested. "It might not have been perfect, but you were not alone. Alone has long been a bad thing for Prowl. It meant danger."

"Yeah," Jazz sighed, and he knew that Optimus meant further back than the war or even Vortex. Jazz had learned things about his family and the mecha they considered friends that had made him shudder to think about. Much of it was from how close he'd come to being just like them, that he would have been just like them but for Prowl being allowed the part in his upbringing that he'd held. "Glad he has you, I hate to think of him alone, I ... I miss Radiance, for that." A bitter smile. "Among other things."

"Your very spark misses him, misses being complete," Optimus said gently. "You had a taste of perfection, of being whole, and it was taken away before you had your fill. I am glad I can be here for you both. You've given me so much more than I can explain."

Jazz nodded, but his optics were unfocused, and he'd barely heard the Prime's words. "We never really ... the blocker, I was never able to merge with him and I..." He glanced up at the Prime for a moment. "I'm not sure if you heard, about the fight I got into with Sunstreaker?" When Optimus nodded, Jazz hurried forward, not wanting to get into a more detailed recounting of that event. "He said I was trying to replace Radiance, and part of me..." He shuddered, curled in on himself. "Part of me is afraid that because I never merged with him, that I _could_ replace him. And I don't want to, I don't ever want to, and I would give anything except Prowl just to merge with him once, just _once,_ just to have that memory. It _hurts,_ " his voice cracked with static, and he reached one hand out to Optimus's chest, brushing the glass. "So much, to remember him, but if I loved him that much, how did I stay alive?"

Optimus brushed gentle fingers along Jazz's arm, to his shoulder and along a doorwing, every bit of it an effort to sooth as he carefully drew the smaller mech against him and enveloped him in his field as much as he could. It _ached_ not to be able to offer the healing Prowl had accepted to Jazz. "You remain for the same reason Prowl does. You are not finished with your frame and what you promised to do. Where Radiance is there is no pain, no sense of time or loss. He is not suffering for your extended stay. You remain because you are still needed."

Jazz's field curled and hid in the Prime's, his frame doing the same in the arms. "Is it selfish to want him back?" he whispered. "Just to make this life easier? We wanted--we wanted a _life_ , Prowl was going to carry for us and I wanted to raise our creation and now--" Another sharp cut of static and his vocalizer shorted and Jazz shook in silence, not even knowing why he talking about this, when all he'd meant to do was recharge on the other side of the berth, but _Primus_ it was a relief to stop smiling for a while.

"No, it is not selfish at all," Optimus said gently as he held the trembling mech and radiated how glad he was that he could provide this safety. "It is _natural_ to want such things, Jazz. Natural and good. It is a sign of _living_ to want it. When you stop wanting, you stop living and become a shell with nothing inside. A dead spark walking. It is good to want the happiness back and to grieve its loss."

Jazz nodded, managed to draw air in to cool over-stressed systems, and pressed as close as he could to the warm frame and soothing field. It wasn't soothing the way Prowl's was, Prowl was safety and love and an extension of his own, but something about Optimus smoothed the jagged edges enough to be bearable, enough to stop feeling them while he was here. A flicker of gratitude when he was calm enough for it and Jazz settled, very slowly, into the embrace and the deep, needed recharge.

He wasn't conscious to see Optimus, his Prime, sink into recharge, nor did he know how much smoother the mech's systems settled with him there. Even in their mutual pain, they offered each other a measure of peace.


	49. Gathering the Crew

Whiplash strode down the halls towards the Prime's office with a very real grin in place. He didn't expect to fool the big mech, but the joy of pranking folks with his sorcelling capabilities had yet to wear off. So far he'd managed to get Ironhide, Ratchet, and Kup, and a very unamused glare from Ultra Magnus who hadn't been fooled for even a moment (probably due to warning from Ratchet), and he wanted to see if he could get a few kliks out of Optimus. 

"Come in," Optimus rumbled from his office.

"Afternoon, boss," Whiplash said cheerily in Jazz's voice to match his look.

"Jazz," Optimus greeted with a head tilt and a warm optic glow. "How can I help you?"

"By drinking your energon," Whiplash teased playfully as he sauntered up to put the cube he'd brought on the Prime's desk. "You'll need your energy tonight," he winked his visor.

Optimus rumbled a deep chuckle and picked the cube up. "Will I now?" he asked. "I thought we were going to have a quiet evening."

"It might start that way, but how often does it end quiet," Whiplash shamelessly flirted with his harmonics and field. Until he was called on it, he was going to play being Prime's lover.

Optimus chuckled again, looking Whiplash up and down. "Do you have anywhere to be, then?"

"Not for a joor," the Ops commander purred in reply, his field reaching out to caress the Prime's.

Optimus pushed his chair slightly away from the desk, angling out, and drummed his fingers on his thigh. "Can you fit a preview in that amount of time? Just so I'm prepared, for later."

"I'm sure I can manage that," Whiplash's purr shifted to more of a rumble and genuine arousal-anticipation flooded him. Sure, he'd be called on his guise, there was no way it was _that_ good, but he wasn't about to turn down another 'face with Prime. Without hesitation he stepped between those spread thighs and slid his arms along the polished metal before kissing the spike cover with a mixture of arousal, desire, excitement and reverence.

A hand rested on his shoulder, smaller than Whiplash was used to feeling as it moved up to caress his helm, his favored frame more similar to a minibot in height than an average Praxian build like Jazz. He nuzzled against it and Optimus's convoy-class engines revved up from the contact, and a klik later, his panel slid back to reveal a partially-hardened spike. Whiplash kissed his way up the exposed length to swirl his glossa around the tip before taking as much of it as he could into his mouth and down his intake in a single, smooth motion.

Optimus's moan was strangled, almost surprised, and he kept his hips from pushing up too sharply, but he couldn't stop the small lift. Both hands came to Whiplash's helm and he x-vented heavily, rumbling from the rub of his glossa, and his spike didn't take long at all to be fully exposed. "Always so good at that," he gasped, struggling to keep control of his frame as the talented mouth and intake worked him for another klik.

When Whiplash drew his helm back, allowing Optimus's spike to stand freely, glistening with oral lubricants, the sound of his valve cover sliding open was lost to the sounds of their frames, two engines rumbling in desire. When the hands slid from his helm, Whiplash made an easy jump to land kneeling on the Prime's thighs and pressed against him for a heated kiss that deepened as soon as the battle mask slid away.

Their glossas danced together, a playful back-and-forth game as the hands moved to Whiplash's waist, holding him firmly before one thumb dipped down to swipe over his valve. 

"Slick," Optimus moaned, and his hips pressed up. 

Whiplash easily moved to set his valve over the impressive spike and slowly sank down. He required it, his cover be damned. Prime would be infinitely more upset at hurting a lover than finding out Jazz wasn't Jazz. Though Whiplash was sure that Prime hadn't been fooled by the time they'd touched.

Even still, he wasn't doing anything to indicate that he was aware of who he was really with, except for likely being patient with the slow push. He didn't try to move any faster than Whiplash needed, and he held very still, optics flickering slightly and mouth falling open. "Slick and _tight_ ," he gasped.

"Wonderfully big," Whiplash gasped, shuddering with the intensity of being that full. This frame could take the Prime, unlike his own. It had been very much worth the repairs, but he knew this Prime wouldn't do it again. He stilled as their arrays came nearly flush and focused on cycling his valve around that exquisite spike.

It made Optimus groan and he wrapped his arms around Whiplash, holding him tightly as his hips began to roll in small, smooth circles. "You'll do anything for a ride, won't you," he rumbled.

"Need it," Whiplash shuddered and gripped the top of Optimus's windshield. His valve could do very little to work the spike already stretching it to its limits, but he tried. The charge was building impossibly fast. "Harder," he pleaded, somewhere between himself and the profile he'd build of Jazz.

Optimus complied, one hand holding Whiplash firmly around the waist and the other against his back, keeping him pulled tight to his chassis as he slowly increased the strength behind his drives in a building momentum that almost drove the smaller mech mad before it reached its peak. Optimus pounded upwards, grunting now, as charge rocketed up in their frames.

It was more than Whiplash's frame could take and he screamed his pleasure just as Jazz did, and he had plenty of recordings to draw from for the imitation. Lightning danced between them as he shook uncontrollably in the larger mech's grip, Optimus's plating absorbing the charge easily and adding it to his own, nearly doubling the current racing through him.

The pounding didn't even slow. If anything, it got faster. "Yes," Optimus moaned, and Whiplash was just hanging on, completely at the Prime's mercy. The background faded away to a hazy bliss until halfway through his third overload when the Prime _roared_ and heat flooded into his frame, filling him completely and driving his peak high enough to knock him out.

Whiplash roused in the Prime's lap, resting against his chest with a hand rubbing his back and purring engines beneath. The first thing he became aware of after that was the delightfully full stretch in his valve, the Prime's spike still buried within. 

"Didn't want you to feel empty when you booted," Optimus rumbled fondly. 

"Always thoughtful," Whiplash murmured, still a little dazed and honestly more content to remain exactly where he was than he cared to admit. It felt _good_ to be in this Prime's embrace.

 _His_ Prime, the way Sentinel never had been. 

Optimus waited patiently until Whiplash's field had steadied a bit more and retracted his spike very slowly, giving the smaller mech time to adjust to the emptiness just as he'd needed the time for the fullness. "Think you can walk?" he murmured after his cover had clicked shut, uncaring of the mixed fluids that had covered his spike, or the ones now in his lap. 

"Yes," Whiplash said and somewhat reluctantly moved to get off Optimus's lap. Without even thinking about it he lowered his helm and began to clean their spilled fluids with his glossa.

"You don't--" Optimus started, uncomfortable with the act and the subservience it represented.

The objection startled Whiplash, who looked up, and then smiled. "I want to. We taste good together," he purred.

Optimus looked surprised, then his hand rested on the side of Whiplash's helm and he rubbed his thumb over the front and the chevron. "Then I won't stop you," he said with an answering smile. He watched, relaxing as the mech knelt before him and turned an act of submission into one of affection.

When he was finished Whiplash stood and claimed a lingering kiss before pulling away with a wink of his visor and affectionate brush of his field.

"I'll see you later, then?" Optimus asked, raising the energon cube Whiplash had brought him with a suggestive rumble.

"Looking forward to it," Whiplash gave a cheery grin and headed towards the exit.

"Excellent," Optimus chuckled from behind. Just before the door opened he heard the quiet, "Oh, and Whiplash?"

Doorwings flicked and he gave Optimus a light huff. "When did you know?"

"Your disguise is excellent, but some of your intel is a bit off," Optimus told him seriously. At Whiplash's confused look, he rubbed a hand over his battle mask, which was clearing hiding a smile. "I have never interfaced with Jazz."

Doorwings gave another twitch, this one of stunned shock. The blue visor cycled a couple times. "How'd you manage that?"

"He's never asked or offered," Optimus said with a shrug. "It isn't at all difficult to not interface with someone who isn't interested. It makes it rather impossible, actually." 

Whiplash's visor cycled again with a twitch of doorwings. "We are talking about Jazz here, correct?" He used the mech's full formal designation and hummed when Optimus nodded. "Fascinating. Well, it doesn't change my assessment of him. I still believe he's ready. Though it'll be interesting to find out why he hasn't asked you."

"If you think about it, you may come to that answer on your own," Optimus said as he nodded his agreement with that assessment. "He is ready. He is stable, and relaxed with who and where he is."

Whiplash cocked his helm and turned the suggestion over to a back processor to mull about. "Since you knew it was me, is there a form you'd _like_ in your berth when they aren't there?"

"Something that won't _hurt_ you," Optimus said. "I rather like _your_ form, actually, it just means the arrangement needs to be different." 

Whiplash purred and nodded. "I can manage that," he rumbled deeply. "I'll drop by the next time they want a night to themselves. Or maybe just for fun here in the office," he gave a last visor wink and slipped away, already going over how he was going to approach Prowl.

The CTO could reliably be found in his office during the day shifts, and frequently during the night as well, and true to form, there he was, behind his desk. "Hey, lover," Whiplash purred as he slipped into the office, discretely palming the door once he was in so that it would close behind him. 

"You're done early," Prowl commented without looking up, though his doorwings gave a pleased and welcoming flicker.

"I may have slipped a few unfinished reports under my desk to pass inspection," Whiplash said in a conspiratorial whisper, sauntering up to the desk. "I thought you might be able to use a break. Unless..." He slid his hands across the smooth surface, bending partially forward. "You don't have _time_..." 

A soft smile crossed Prowl's features as his field reached out to caress his lover's with affection and desire. "When don't I have time for you?" he purred back, his engine giving a deep rumble.

"How about that time last metacycle when you were locked in here for a _decaorn?_ " Whiplash said with a small smirk, and crawled up onto the desk, snaking forward, leaning in to nip at Prowl's lower lip. "I recall complaining about that nonstop."

"Mmm," Prowl reached forward to curl his hand around the back of Whiplash's helm and pulled him forward into a hard, hungry and hot kiss. "I made it up to you, didn't I?"

Whiplash grinned into it. "I didn't sit right for orns, that's for sure," he chuckled. "How ya want me, babe? I bet I could still make it to a berth..."

Prowl chuckled and a flare of mischievous intent flickered across his field. "On your back, right here," he put gentle pressure on Whiplash's neck to indicate the desk. "Bound and helpless for my pleasure."

Whiplash nearly moaned aloud just at the suggestion, hiding the surprise that Prowl would propose something like that, and he had cuffs dangling from his finger in an instant. "You're in a good mood," he purred, moving with the pressure, letting Prowl push him over and down.

Prowl simply grinned down at him and moved around to secure the cuffs to Whiplash's wrists, then pulled them over his helm and secured them to a sturdy latch under the desk's rim. Then he moved to the chair side and pulled out two lengths of strong cord from a drawer to bind Whiplash's ankles to the corners of the desk.

"You do look good like that," Prowl rumbled as he stalked around the desk, taking in the bound mech with every sense. "Now, what should I do with you?" he purred, his engine rumbling deeply.

"Why don't you play nice and gentle," Whiplash said, flashing a grin. "Wouldn't want me damaged, would you, lover?"

Prowl's smile turned cruel and his field cold. "Oh, I don't know. My love enjoys it when I'm already warmed up when I bring him a new toy."

Whiplash's intake caught as that field pushed against his, an unleashed savagery that he had never teeked in this mech when it wasn't a direct mirror of that same emotion in Jazz. 

"What gave it away?" he asked, pretending to pull at the cuffs more insistently, a purposefully nervous flicker going through his own field.

"Your field," Prowl said smoothly as he pulled a dagger from subspace and traced it along Whiplash's visor edge. "You're good, I'll give you that, but I'm better."

"You did a good job not showing it," Whiplash said, tilting his head into the blade as he squirmed in place. "What happens now if I beg for mercy?"

"You live long enough to meet the SpecOps CO, assuming he doesn't leave you to us," Prowl shrugged his doorwings, trailing the blade down Whiplash's Praxian frame as he moved along the side of the desk. "You will meet the mech you claim to be."

"And if I _don't_ beg for mercy?" Whiplash purred, hips lifting.

The blade flicked along an interface panel before sliding into a hip joint. "I'll make you beg, plead for deactivation, then give you to my mate so we can enjoy your guttering spark together." Prowl shivered with the raw intensity of the lust that hit him at the thought of that. "That is the fun part," he slid the blade deeper, teasing it against the joint. "First you'll tell me why you've come here."

"All those centuries," Whiplash breathed, arching his back with a longing whine of his engine while potent masochism protocols kicked into gear. Unlike his protégé, Whiplash had no qualms about using this kind of coding. "All those centuries and you were hiding another interrogator right under my sensors and I never realized."

Prowl hummed and teased the joint with the short, sharp blade. "If you're very good for me, answer my questions, I might just let you have those protocols when we play with you."

A truly frightening level of excitement surged across Prowl's field as he reached into a drawer for a data chip and plugged it into an arm port. "But for now, I'm afraid they do make the whole interrogation process far less enjoyable for me. I do this to relax. I'm not keen on working around masochism systems. I've learned to like screams of pain without the undercurrent of pleasure."

He took the chip out and flicked it between two fingers where Whiplash could see it. "Of course, if you really are Whiplash as you'd have me believe, you'll probably enjoy it all, right up to the point you realize it's not a game anymore."

"Then try your worst," Whiplash said as the chip was inserted into his arm. He watched as the upload--which he tried to stop without success--tore away at his coding and it ended with a sharp hiss when the blade scraped across the sensitive ball joint. "I trained your mate to resist more than you ever had to, let's see if you can beat that."

"I'm sure Whiplash's training of Jazz was superior in several respects," Prowl said easily, his field rich with excitement and growing arousal as he began to carve elaborate glyphs into Whiplash's armor. "Now, let us return to the original question. Why are you here?"

Another hiss and Whiplash's armor pulled in tightly around his protoform, combat-grade interlocking layers designed to keep the sensitive systems and structures safe from assault, but Prowl's dagger was exquisitely sharp and had no trouble damaging thin outer layers. "To test the imitation," Whiplash said honestly, and grinned in a perfect, roguish mimic of Jazz. "Ta see if I could get any fun out of it." 

"Mmm, yes, and why should I believe you're Whiplash?" Prowl asked conversationally when the blade dug in deeper to penetrate the seam over Whiplash's spark.

"Because," Whiplash gasped, spine curving up, "I'm carrying your old sorcelling tech."

"Good start," Prowl's tone was now definitely annoyed, but the blade continued to work the seam, traveling down. "Prove it."

Whiplash looked him up and down, wondered absently if there was a way to splice this mech with the Prime for a _really_ good frag, and bared his denta. "Make me." 

"As you wish," Prowl drove the blade directly into the primary lock, splintering it as he twisted the blade sideways. He didn't bother saying anything as he went after the next lock, but he did ping his mate on their privately encrypted channel.

Beneath him Whiplash was silent but his frame was shuddering as each lock broke, hands clenched into fists. 

::Yeah, Prowler?:: Jazz asked curiously, his answer overlaying Whiplash's intakes increasing in speed. 

::Please come to my office, and bring your tool kit,:: Prowl actually purred. ::Either Whiplash is trying to get extinguished, or we have a _very_ interesting interrogation ahead of us.::

Silence over the comm and Whiplash yelped as Prowl twisted his wrist. Holding back screams had never been part of his style or curriculum, it did nothing but waste energy to do so. 

Finally Jazz pinged his ETA and asked, ::Is that little slag up there? He stuck me with his reports and said he had an assignment!::

::I have yet to confirm it is Whiplash and I do not know how much he got up to before coming on to me,:: Prowl warned. ::It would not be unreasonable to begin a scan of the systems for being compromised. I have confirmed that all officers are registering as functional.::

::Understood,:: Jazz said, with a tone that said he was going to take this as seriously as any possible security breach. ::Have you alerted Red Alert, or would you prefer to confirm the identity first?::

::Confirmation first. The probability that this is Whiplash is 63.8%,:: Prowl responded, a touch reluctant but entirely too aware of the repercussions of reporting this if it _was_ Whiplash.

::And he isn't answering his comm, although he's apparently online,:: Jazz said. ::Be up in ten.::

::I'll see about opening his armor until then,:: Prowl replied and signed off. "You do scream well." He paused with the second latch in tatters and regarded the face of his love. "Do you have any idea how cathartic this will be for me?" he purred softly as the tip of the blade settled over one optic, just barely touching the visor. "How long I've wondered what it would feel like to actually go through with extinguishing him, to not stop when his frame was broken and his self-hatred finally abated enough to stand existence?" He pressed down on the blade, slowly cracking the visor. "To finally comply with my loyalty coding and finish the job."

A short wave of something like real fear went through Whiplash's field, shuddering out into his armor, as he wondered for the first time if this had actually hadn't been one of the brightest ideas he'd ever had. "He wants you to kill him?" he asked between pants. "Or is it deeper than that?"

"Sometimes," Prowl pressed the blade through the visor but stopped just as it touched the outermost lens of the optic. "We've been through a lot. Had our coding shredded and rebuilt more times than I care to count. But each time it's built on the tattered remains of before. Even now my original coding drives me. Coding for obedience. Coding to protect the good name of the House I serve. A House that Jazz betrayed. A House I betrayed. A House my only legitimate surviving creation brought more shame to." He shifted the blade to over the other optic. "Jazz is my _Lord_ ," he snarled at the raw conflict he'd never given much thought to before but now was threatening to consume him. The tac-net was off, incapable of dealing with interfacing or sadism. "My Lord betrayed the House."

Whiplash nodded slowly, cutting the glitching feed from the visor and switching over to optics, focusing in tight on the tip of the knife. "As I understand it," he said slowly, "His House betrayed him, when he was subjected to punishment for an act that should have been on you alone."

Prowl let the giggling laughter bubble up as it wished as he began to slice long, shallow strips of metallic skin from Whiplash's face. "Not the monster's House. Neither of us actually transferred our loyalty. It's not logical," he gave another giggle and lifted a piece of stripped skin to his lips to eat. "It's not rational. It just _is_. This is what you get when you spend a couple millennia constantly reworking your own code. I'm very much insane, pretty one. It's just kept in check by coding I wrote to function in this society. Primus only knows how long it'll last before I have to write a new version to cover up the mess again."

Whiplash could only stare with a detached feeling of horror when he could finally see again and his shrieking vocalizer quieted. "His first House had no duty to step in?" he asked, because Primus help him, he was _curious_ now.

"And do what? Protect him from his bonded? From the mech they sold him to?" Prowl snarled and suddenly his claws were against Whiplash's spike cover and tearing it off. "Know what the first meal that monster fed me was?" His fingers dug into the housing to find the manual release. "Care to guess what sustained my frame those first few orns?"

" _Nnh_ \--" Whiplash's knees tried to pull up, to roll away, but Prowl found what he was looking for and his spike extended. Not a copy of Jazz's, the tech didn't affect the interfacing pieces, but his own. His most recent one, anyway. "Your first--" And then he thought about it, thought about what they knew of Vortex and the rotor's tastes, what Jazz would never have needed-- "His spike," he said, voice flat. "He fed you Jazz's spike."

"Those metals are still part of me," Prowl lowered himself to take the spike into his mouth and swirled his glossa along it until his lips were against the housing.

The door opened and Whiplash tilted his head back halfway through a shuddering moan to see Jazz, and gave his SIC the best grin he could manage, considering. 

Jazz stepped in, taking in the scene, and cocked his head. "Oh, boss," he said. "Don't even tell me you gave me extra deskwork so you could try t' seduce Prowler." 

"It didn't work as well as planned," Whiplash admitted, then screeched when Prowl bit hard enough to separate his spike at the housing.

Jazz tsked at him, walking around to his mate and pressing a kiss to the top of his helm. "You would carve up the work of art that is my face?" he purred.

Prowl stood and crunched the spike in his mouth, swallowing it before turning to kiss his mate. "Not his right to wear it."

Jazz swirled his glossa into Prowl's mouth, getting a taste of the lingering energon and metal. "True enough. Are you any more certain as to who he is?" He gave Whiplash a wicked grin. "Or is that enjoyable task of finding out still one I can join in?" 

"You are welcome to join in," Prowl purred. "It's not every orn one gets to interrogate their own frame."

Jazz chuckled, looking Whiplash up and down in a very hungry way. "True," he said, and walked around to the head, leaning in to claim a hard, biting kiss that left Whiplash bleeding. "You manage to fool _anyone_ in this get-up?" he asked. "You've been gone for joors and I know Prowler's not had you that long." 

"Ratchet, Ironhide, and Kup," Whiplash managed, choking back his moan as Prowl dug his blade into the exposed circuitry where his spike had been. "Ironhide doesn't like you much." 

Jazz laughed at that. "No," he agreed, and started to work claws under the chest seams that Prowl had been working on. "He is not a member of the Jazz Fan Club. I hope you didn't try ta seduce him." 

"Might have," Whiplash grinned. "And it's more like the Jazz 'Face Club."

"Whose spikes did you get?" Prowl growled as he sliced deeper.

"Just--Prime's," Whiplash gasped, and then gave a strangled cry. "But a--a lot of offers in the r--" The words cut off into a scream when Jazz's own dagger came out of subspace, the same courting gift from Radiance that Whiplash had once praised for its quality. When he recovered enough of himself, he groaned, "Rec room."

"But Prime knew it was _not_ Jazz," Prowl hissed, rage roiling in a toxic cloud through his field that came from nowhere. He didn't even think as his blade slammed through Whiplash's valve cover and began slicing the lining out in ribbons.

"Immediately," Whiplash groaned, then his entire frame seized up with a shriek as Jazz was drawn by his mate's field to join him in the mutilation. "He knew, _he knew!_ " 

"Do you know _why_ he knew?" Jazz hissed, claws digging into the damaged spike array. 

"Yes," Whiplash sobbed, his frame convulsing randomly from the pain as he took in the teek of these two. Insanity, rage, but a strange form of unity and calmness when they worked together.

Yes, they were absolutely insane. But so was he. Few mecha who still functioned were sane by any measure of the old world. This was a new world and they were well-suited to command in it.

Pain whited out his thoughts for a moment and when they came back his chest armor had been ripped clean off--the thinner metal that was the price of taking a form larger than his native one was no protection against their strength.

"Ah, hello, 'Lash," Jazz purred upon seeing the unique sorcelling tech and the crystal that he knew by sight, something that could not be copied. In a single, smooth motion slipped up onto the desk to straddle his commander, fingers deep in the inner workings of the exposed systems before him. "It's him, Prowler," he told his mate, and snaked their frames together in an easy, graceful wave that ended with their pelvises pressed together, his valve cover grinding against where the spike had been, making Whiplash spasm with ever rough pull. "I'd ride you, but..."

"Take his mouth while I take what's left of the valve?" Prowl suggested with a snicker and glittering bright ice blue optics. "You've already had that spike anyway. Pounce him after he has a new one."

Jazz twisted around to wrap fingers around Prowl's neck, pulling his mate into a deep kiss, fields meshing in a twisted, dark ecstasy. "Yess," he purred deeply, bringing Prowl's hand down to his spike cover, sliding it away and jutting into his love's fingers while he turned back to Whiplash. "I'll try to keep him from tearing you apart," he said with a crazy tint to his field. "But I can't promise anything. Shouldna picked my face and offered yourself as an enemy, too much he'd love ta do." 

"We were taught by the finest sickness Cybertron's ever produced, then improved on his skills," Prowl's rumble was intense as he stroked Jazz's spike, playing with the thick ruffles while he slammed his hips forward to bury himself into Whiplash's bleeding and half-skinned valve.

Whiplash's head tossed back and his optics whited out as _pain_ shattered through him, making him scream. The sound was muffled a moment later as Jazz moved forward and pushed in, burying into the intake with a low moan. His hands grabbed the helm and pulled it back up until lips met plating, hunching over and rocking, digging his claws into the sensor horns, knowing exactly where to go for them to hurt the most. 

Whiplash shook and submitted, and there was almost a _relief_ in his field. These two could control him and subdue him; they were worthy of the offices they would hold. And if they killed him in this process ... well, he desired _rest_ just as much as they did. He'd found someone he trusted to take over, refined and honed him, and could finally do what he'd longed for for so long: hand Special Operations into his care.

"Should we-- _nnh_ \--let him-- _unh_ \--have protocols-- _ohh_ \--back?" Prowl managed through his pleasure.

Jazz huffed a laugh. "Feelin' generous, Prowler. Whatcha think, 'Lash? Wan'em back?"

Whiplash managed a whine and a burst of _want_ into his field.

"Of course-- _ohhhh_ \--he want'm back," Prowl shuddered and thrust, but transmitted the code to turn them back on without breaking rhythm.

A scream of an entirely different kind tore from Whiplash's vocalizer, frame going rigid and hips slamming back in a counter-rhythm to Prowl. His valve _clenched_ down and his hips bucked and the dizzying whirl of _pain-hurt-good-agony-bliss_ through his field slammed into the pair above him. 

" _Frag_ ," Jazz gasped. "Worth it." He tossed Prowl a look over his shoulder, panting. "Y'should--ha-- _ah_ \--stick the knife back int' his spike array."

With a moaning shudder and thrill at the thought Prowl did just that, slicing it into Whiplash's body all the way to the hilt and using that as a grip to drive himself into the mangled mess even harder. "One thing I really miss, having an endless supply of these we can 'face until they're gray," Prowl gasped through panting moans. The hand not gripping his dagger dug into Whiplash's exposed internals and pulled out a handful of cables and wiring.

Jazz's engine revved at the thought and a shudder went through Whiplash as he wondered, with little real concern attached to the thought, if he was going to end up on that list before the joor was up, with the way they kept grabbing at his frame and tearing pieces away. 

If he had to go, though, this would be the way to do it, with his Second's claws buried in a sensor horn and his neck, and that _sharp_ , cruel heat between his legs. Mangled and used and oh _Primus_ he might just pass out from the overload when it hit. 

"Whatever y'doin', don' stop!" Jazz moaned. "Ohh-- _Prowler_ \--gonna--" A whine and a quick thrust of his hips, field unsteady and chaotic. "Gonna spill in 'im--I--a- _aah!_ " Jazz screamed, pounding his hips, claws flexing in.

The wash of his field and cry of bliss was all Prowl could take and he bellowed, slamming his hips forward to pump thick, hot transfluid deep into the abused gash of a valve he was buried deep inside. Their energy flashed and danced between the three frames, diving into unshielded systems in Whiplash's chest.

Very distantly, through the agonizing, blissful throes of an overload that lashed at his frame, it occurred to Whiplash that they'd never once called Radiance's designation when _hurting_ for pleasure, but they always did when they weren't causing pain, and he couldn't figure out why. When he was knocked offline, the thought was cut too soon and lost.

Jazz shuddered above him, still gripping and pushing when Whiplash went limp. "Wasn't--expecting that today," he managed.

Prowl sank forward, bracing both hands to the side of Whiplash's slack and mangled frame as he panted and tried to untangle the mess of threads and half-profiles that his processor had turned into. "You actually _expected_ that _ever?_ "

Jazz actually laughed a little. "I wouldn't'a put it outside the realm of possibility," he said, then shifted serious. "Before he's online--how much of that was real and how much was acting?" He twisted, running a hand down Prowl's face. "Any triggers I should watch for?"

"I was acting, a role, love. He was never in any danger," Prowl pressed into the touch, his field warm and affectionate. "I drew on real emotions, real issues, but never out of control. I'll be fine before Ratchet arrives to curse us in six new languages."

Jazz snickered, but there was relief in his field. "Twelve, probably," he said, looking down at the mess that was his commander, pulling his second hand out. "Your comm or mine?"

"I will," Prowl withdrew from the valve, his spike covered with transfluid and system energon. "It is my office." He stepped back and drew a cloth from subspace to clean himself up with as he pinged Ratchet, flagged urgent.

::Oh, what do you need _now?_ :: the medic groused immediately as Prowl was notified of a location ping on his signal, and accepted Jazz's request to patch in. 

::We played a little rough,:: Jazz said. 

::Fraggit all, Prowl!:: Ratchet snapped. ::I _told_ you I wasn't repairing any more interfacing injuries on him this vorn!::

::Jazz isn't the one we damaged,:: Prowl replied calmly. ::Whiplash is the one that requires your attention. Rather soon, I would say.::

::Dammit, be there as soon as I can,:: Ratchet muttered, and the line cut. 

Jazz cocked his head down at Whiplash, whose optics were slowly flickering online beneath the cracked and dim visor. "Hey there, boss," he said, and patted Whiplash's cheek. "All right? Ratchet's coming." 

"So I'll live after all?" Whiplash mumbled groggily.

"Quite. None of your critical systems were damaged," Prowl said in his usual tone, giving no hint of the show Whiplash had been witness to. "Though I'm sure your masochism protocols have you feeling quite well buzzed right now."

A bit of a spasm wracked Whiplash's frame as if in agreement and he took a much-needed intake to try to cool the heated systems.

"Isn't my Prowler wonderful?" Jazz trilled as he swung off the desk and unlocked the handcuffs. Whiplash didn't move his arms. "I was even a little worried for a while." 

"He is impressive," Whiplash admitted, quite willing to allow his frame to hang more-or-less limply across Prowl's desk even though he was no longer bound. "You are quite the pair. I chose very well."

The door opened in the next moment and Whiplash gave Ratchet a dazed, unrepentant smile. 

The medic, predictably, exploded when he saw the mess they had made of him. "Of all the ridiculous, asinine, foolish, _dangerous_ , _STUPID_ things to do!" he shouted as he started in on his work. 

"Oh, come on, doc," Whiplash gasped as the medic began cauterizing, quick jobs on the worst bleeds that he would have to come back to later to redo properly. "Just a bit of fun." 

"A _bit_ of fun," Ratchet snorted, glancing down towards Whiplash's pelvis. "-- _Where is your spike?_ " 

"Prowl ate it," Jazz said cheerfully. 

Ratchet gave all three of them a blanched, horrified look, and Whiplash made a snickering sound that turned into a trilling moan under the medic's hands as he arched into the frame. 

"The things I never wanted to know," Ratchet muttered, looking at his squirming, nearly overloading patient. "I am putting you in stasis." 

"No, wait!" Whiplash gasped. "Just a little--" 

Jazz reached down and helpfully dug his clawed thumb into the mangled spike array and sank his fingers into the bleeding valve, tearing at the lining. 

Whiplash screamed again in overload, writhing on the desk until the charge faded. "'Kay," he mumbled. "C'n stas's." 

"Finally," Ratchet growled, and dropped him down. 

* * *

With Whiplash in medbay and under Ratchet's rather impressive guard for the orn and possibly more, Jazz was still stuck with all of his extra deskwork, and now he was behind the time he'd spent in Prowl's office and the time they'd spent getting yelled at by the medic and the time they'd spent cleaning up afterwards. He'd quite honestly lost track of how long he'd been reading reports and officiating orders with Whiplash's forged signature, and was only aware of the changing shifts from the changing landscape of the agents who came and went. 

He was nearing the end of the work, all of it generated by the recent loss of a SpecOps team on the Tyger Pax front and what had been recovered from the scene, when he heard pedesteps and a faint smirk brushed across his lips. "I can tell it's you, 'Lash," he said without looking up. 

The pedesteps stopped and Jazz lifted his head to see a very chagrined looking mimic of Mindguard standing in his office door. 

"You didn't even look!" Whiplash said. 

"Don't need ta look," Jazz said, going back to his work.

"How did you know?" Whiplash muttered the demand.

Jazz snorted. "Like I'm goin' ta tell you that. You are an unholy terror and you think I'm giving you the key ta fooling me whenever you want?" He glanced back up at his commander. "I mean that in the most loving way possible."

Whiplash cracked a grin in reply. "I think that might just be the sweetest thing you've ever said to me. Come," he motioned his SIC to follow.

Jazz rose smoothly, very glad to leave the desk for a while. "Ratchet left you in one piece after the repairs, I see," he said as they walked.

"He only damages audials with his shrieking," Whiplash snickered, making his way to the world above that regular Autobots inhabited. "I always learn a new curse or two."

Jazz grinned and they walked in silence for a while until they reached the final exit and paused for Whiplash to sorcel back into his normal form, after Jazz protested that he didn't need the rumors that would come about from his being seen walking around with Mindguard. 

"We're going to Prime's office?" Jazz finally realized after the third turn into the base.

"Yes, he's expecting us," Whiplash nodded.

Jazz shot a scowl at him, not overly fond of meetings where he was the only one not in the loop, but remained settled and quiet for the rest of the walk. 

The door opened to their ping and they stepped in, going to the two seats that had been set out in front of Optimus's desk, appropriate for their heights. 

"I'm very glad you could make it," Optimus said warmly, gaze flickering between the two. "This happens to be the third time we've rescheduled this meeting, most recently because Whiplash was strapped down in medbay." 

"To be fair, I didn't know we were going to be delaying a meeting with that, and Whiplash _did_ start it," Jazz said.

"As I am well aware," the humor in Optimus's voice was unmistakable. "Ratchet is still furious. Though given the subject matter, I wonder if perhaps Whiplash has changed his processors?"

"Nope," the matte black mech shook his helm quickly. "I am _so_ ready for this."

"Ready?" Jazz repeated, looking between them, and then his visor flickered and he turned to his boss, gaze bright. "You're stepping down." 

"And you're being promoted," Optimus said, nodding.

"Congratulations, Commander Jazz." Whiplash grinned at him. "I'm going back to what I'm good at, what soothes my spark as a function."

"And you," Optimus said, looking at Jazz, "Have something not entirely unlike a House to run." 

Jazz's head lifted, and then his entire frame straightened, doorwings raising up. "How soon does this take effect?" he asked. 

Optimus chuckled. "You've possibly noticed getting stuck with more and more of Whiplash's work recently. He's been training you in a rather unorthodox fashion. He believes you are ready, and I agree with his assessment. At the beginning of the next shift, your promotion will be in effect."

"My last act as SpecOps' CO will be to hand you the profile of your new House assassin," Whiplash's engine purred, millennia of tension melting from him as he spoke. "You and your mate will run this war well."

"Ooh, Prowler can't pull rank anymore," Jazz purred in realization before looking back to Whiplash. "Hope you're ready for some assignments."

"Past ready," Whiplash said with absolute honesty as he handed Jazz a datapad holding information that no one other than the current Prime, Sentinel, and the former ISO CO who had commissioned his sparking had ever seen. "It'll be good to do what I was created for again."

"Mmh," Jazz hummed, accepting and already teeking of the excited, rippling anticipation of coming fully into command over Special Operations, running what really was very much like a House for the convenience of both his mate and his Prime. He jumped lightly to his pedes, glanced at his chronometer, and marked the shift change. "Agent," he purred deeply. "If you'll come with me, please."

"Yes, sir," Whiplash nodded and stood smoothly. "Prime," he inclined his helm before following his new CO out, teeking nearly as eager for the new order as Jazz.

* * *

Prowl was working through the requisitions that he had immediately claimed domain over when he had been promoted to the Autobot Second in Command. It had produced such a relieved teek from his leader that he wondered why he hadn't done so much earlier. It felt good to be doing management again, and while they gave Jazz some lip service about how commanding a division was like managing a House, it was nothing compared with how close managing an army was to managing an estate, just on a greater scale.

Prowl adored it. Despite the time it took from them, Jazz liked it too, for how much happier Prowl was for the duties. The choices he made as a tactician still ate at him, but he was exceptional at his duties to the Prime and those few whose opinion he cared about were not shy about reminding him of that fact. So he was busy multi-tasking and enjoying a relatively quiet afternoon in his office, skimming the new feeds and watching all the various messages buzzing about the base while the tac-net worked on plans for an assault on Polyhex to reclaim the city.

Then he paused, his primary focus going to a message from recruiting. It was generic, just a notice that a mech was filling out forms, but the designation was so intricate in its formality that it took Prowl nearly a full klik and a half to decipher it. When he did, he was on his pedes and walking at a brisk pace for the room this potential recruit would be in, a set-aside space in one of the outermost general areas where Neutrals and Autobots mingled. As he walked he forwarded the message to Jazz.

Jazz's reply was a full klik later, and startled, but he would be there as soon as he was able to get away. Until then, Prowl was to pull this mech away and keep him out of the way of any other officer. 

When he got there and looked around the room, he saw two large groupings: one of Neutrals and guttersmecha near the energon distribution station that gave limited quantities to those with a low enough fuel level, and another near the desk where new recruits could sign up, comprised mostly of frontliner builds grouped around something he couldn't see. 

He could hear, though, easily. 

"Hey, pretty wheels, didn't know they let pleasurebots sign up, that a new service they're offering?" 

"I am _not_ a pleasurebot," said the stiffly formal, very cold, and noble-accented voice. 

"What else're you gonna do, seriously," another sneered. "Look at you. Ain't seen a shine like that in centuries. You _do_ know this isn't a full service washrack, right?" 

"Or did you just get lost?" a third picked up, and Prowl was almost on top of them. "Why don't you let me--" 

"Don't _touch_ me," the smaller mech hissed, and Prowl grabbed one of the frontliners, hauling him back in time to see the slender, blue and white mech snatch his arm out of the groping fingers. He looked ready to bolt, and like he was very much questioning his decision to come here.

"Lord Mirage," Prowl's formal tone and address snapped all optics to him. "I am Commander Prowl," he used his full, formal designation, one that had never been uttered out loud before. It would tell Mirage not only what he was now, but what he had been before his life had gone to the Pit. "If you would come with me."

Mirage looked just as startled as the rest of the mecha in the area as he stared at Prowl, then he nodded, lifted his chin and settled himself into a perfect, composed figure and stalked past the group. In his field was a self-assurance that only came from _knowing_ that he was better than them. 

"Thank you, Commander," Mirage said once they were far enough away, with the proper harmonics of addressing military commander of comparable rank, if not comparable social standing to a House Lord in noble society.

"You are welcome, Lord Mirage. I understand you came to enlist?" Prowl spoke calmly and respectfully, but with all the authority his current station provided him.

"I did," Mirage affirmed. "Like many I have realized I have nowhere else to go, and I would like to serve my Prime if I cannot serve my Lord."

"You will serve very well," Prowl said with complete faith in the statement as he led Mirage, uncontested, to his office. "Your commander will be by soon. While we wait, you can finish the forms and ask any questions you may have."

"My commander?" Mirage asked with a curious trill. "I haven't even been through basic training yet--they told me that unspecialized mecha go into infantry."

"That is generally true, however you are far from an unspecialized mecha," Prowl said as he motioned Mirage to sit at one of the two chairs he now had on the far side of his desk. "You are an unbonded, untouched second creation noble with the ability to become invisible and silent. If you are like every Towers noble I have ever known, your aim is exceptional. You will be going into Special Operations under Jazz," he gave his mate's full, formal designation, something he only used to rile Jazz into dominating him in the berth.

Mirage looked startled by it but he composed himself quickly and leaned back in the chair, one hand relaxed in the air and looking like it only lacked a flute of sparkling high grade to be complete. Long legs crossed gracefully as the noble regarded the former seneschal. "How do you know all that?"

"I do remember how to read designation glyphs. Your full, formal one was in the memo I received about a new recruit." Prowl explained smoothly. "Jazz was trained how to read them as well," he added to use his mate's common designation.

"I see," Mirage said, looking warmed, and he smiled with a graceful incline of his helm. "I seem to find myself in better company than I had hoped for. I would not have even thought to find someone fully versed in formal glyphwork."

"There are a few of us left, primarily officers. Sadly it is not considered a useful skill anymore no matter how much I disagree," Prowl said, pleased to have another to speak to that understood the world he had been created for and still missed.

"A shame," Mirage said, and cocked his head slightly as he regarded Prowl. "I do trust that ... you'll not spread the full meaning of my designation around. I've heard stories about the kind of _ruffians_ that can be about, and my seals still have meaning to me, even if the majority of our world finds their existence to be less than favorable."

"I have no desire to make your existence less pleasant than it already is," Prowl promised as best he could. "If they must be broken by other than your Intended, it will not be by a random mecha or gang. Jazz will ensure that." 

"I understand," Mirage said quietly. "I know that there are circumstances that may necessitate their breaking, I just prefer to forestall that until there is no other choice."

Prowl paused, gauging Mirage's state. "If you do not have another question, I believe you can finish the forms before Jazz arrives."

Mirage smiled at him and tilted his head in agreement, pulling the forms out of subspace and restarting his work on them. 

Nearly a quarter joor had passed before Jazz strode into the office, not even chiming, and his focus was immediately on the noble sitting before his mate. "You are Mirage," he said, using the formal designation.

"Yes," the young noble, only a decade in his adult frame, looked up and gauged the mech before him as one of significant rank and the authority to use it as a noble would.

Jazz regarded back, calm and still, before he began a slow, circling pace around the blue and white mech, taking in every micron of his frame, the lines, apparent strength, the well-cared-for finish. "You are unbonded," he said, and stopped in front of him, leaning back against the desk. "Have you ever had an Intended?" 

"Storm Front," Mirage trilled the formal designation, which included his status as deceased. He could not hide the honest affection there, or his grief at losing the mech he had been meant to center his existence around.

Jazz nodded once, musing that over for a few moments. "An inconvenience," he finally decided, "But nothing that cannot be overcome. Other than that, your second creation coding is fully functioning and undamaged?"

"Yes," Mirage held his uneasiness at the line of questioning close, not allowing it to show.

Jazz's engine purred deeply. "Mine is damaged beyond repair, you see," he said. "Formed into an independent construct when I refused to fully align my loyalty to my Intended, and was later destroyed. But I know how to use it, and I can teach you to switch loyalties without damaging the coding in the long term." 

The very idea disturbed Mirage deeply, but he was committed to this path. At least this mech understood what he was. He inclined his helm in understanding and acceptance. Not only of the statement, but of this mech's authority over him as his new House Lord.

Jazz crossed his arms over his chest, pleased with the response. "We are still vorns away from that discussion, you have time to get used to the idea. For now, I'm assigning you to special training assignment in Special Operations. I will oversee your training and conduct as much as I can personally. Prowl told me you would like your seals to remain intact, and I will honor that request for your training, though you might be subjected to some rather unconventional methods of resistance training." 

"I understand, Commander Jazz," Mirage said more firmly than he felt. This was more than he'd dared hope for as a best case. He was not going to allow himself to be distressed by things that were less than perfect. Perfect was a thing of the past. It was shattered and gone.

"Just Jazz," Jazz grinned at him. "Now how about this electro-disruptor ... where did you get it, and can more be fashioned?"

"It was crafted for me with my adult upgrade. As I understand it, it could be duplicated, however the effect would not be as complete as it is for me. My sigma ability involves hiding in plain sight. It enhances the ability," Mirage sought to answer the question as fully as he could.

"I see," Jazz said, then hummed and nodded. "Do you have any questions for me?" 

"Have you determined my new function?" Mirage asked politely.

"We'll see how well you take to training, and then to the adjustments for your coding, but my intent is to make you a specialized undercover operative," Jazz said. "Mecha are much more willing to spill secrets to someone who has conformed into what they desire, and second creation coding can do that like none other." 

Mirage could only nod. He understood, and with Jazz now listed as his house Lord, bending to his will came easily, almost a pleasure to be what was desired by his innate nature.

Jazz looked him up and down once more, taking in the slender frame that looked so much like his once had so long ago, the beautifully crafted features, and armor that was designed for the flexibility of fencing and dance as opposed to any physical combat, and databurst him his and Prowl's private comm frequencies. "If you get into any trouble," he explained, then grinned. "Plenty of types who don't take well to nobles, but they shut up right quick once they learn where Prowler an' me came from. And if _anyone_ ," his voice dipped into a growl, "Tries to take something from you that you don't want to give, they'll answer to me."

"Thank you, my Lord Jazz," Mirage stood and dipped into a deep, formal bow usually granted to a House Lord. "I will serve you well."

None of them needed to hear "in exchange for your protection and guidance" to know it was there. That was the duty of the Lord, just as it was the duty of the subordinate to honor, obey and learn.

"I know you will," Jazz said, and stood, holding his arm out. "I will show you to your quarters. Once your forms have been processed, and I intend to put them on rush, your training begins."

Mirage inclined his helm and accepted Jazz's arm. He felt better than he had since the attack, and he knew, deep down, that he would continue to settle into his loyalty and new role as he learned what was expected of him.

It was good to know his place once more.


	50. Earth

Prowl booted with painful slowness and immediately logged the last thing in his memory queue.

_AI: pre-emptive control assumed._

He dug further, intend on finding what happened before the AI came online again.

 _Planetary impact imminent_

Oh _frag_ that was not good. He was alive, however. The impact could not have been as severe as anticipated. The battle, attempting to escape Cybertron ... Prime, Jazz, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Mirage ... his entire family was on board.

A surge of panic fueled his need to finish booting _now_ to find out what had happened to them.

In an almost immediate reply, a field pressed deeply into him and he abruptly realized that there was an extra presence with him in his processors. Only three potentially functioning mecha could get into him offline. Prime, Ratchet using medical overrides, and Jazz.

The field confirmed who and he relaxed to allow the boot to complete normally. Jazz was alive, with him, and calm. Reality could wait a few more breems.

Jazz waited until he was certain that Prowl had settled and wouldn't force his boot sequence and possibly damage himself in the process, then relaxed back, one arm curled around his mate's head and stroking his helm. The other was held out so he could examine the new paint job. 

Looking around the decimated Ark and the stasis-locked Autobots who had all miraculously survived the crash, Jazz could tell that everyone had been scanned and built for a new alt mode, but the changes weren't as drastic as he would have expected for a new planet. It was likely inhabited by cybercreatures, or possibly biomechanoids.

Optimus has been brought online first by Teletraan I, then Hound, and then Ratchet who'd stopped the automatic program in favor of booting everyone himself. Jazz had been onlined for security after Wheeljack, Prowl's sequence had been started, and now the medics were busy looking over the new frame scans before moving onto anyone else, Optimus was working with Teletraan I to determine what they could about the planet they'd crash landed on, and Hound was sitting quietly, trying to cope with what his chronometers were telling him.

"Can we contact Cybertron?" Jazz asked.

"Negative," Optimus Prime responded. "The communications system has been badly damaged."

He refused to mention the very distinct possibility that there was nothing to receive a signal even if they could transmit it, even though it was almost louder in the silence than if he had spoken it.

"How is Prowl?"

"Booting," Jazz said, looking back down at his love. "Takin' a while, but not the longest I've ever seen."

"Good," Optimus's relief was very real. "We will need him. The Decepticons on board were revived first and this world is brimming with sentient life."

"What kind?" Hound asked, roused from where he'd been sitting in silence. 

"From all appearances, small organics," Optimus said. "Primarily bipedal and quadrupedal." 

Jazz frowned down at his frame while Hound bounded over to the screen to look at the images on there. "Organics with a decent grasp of mechanics." 

"Indeed," Optimus said. "And there appear to be large quantities of energy as well, which is likely what the Decepticons are going to focus on."

"We need to focus on it as well," Ratchet pointed out as he began bringing Sideswipe out of stasis. "The only way we'll survive is by staying better fueled than they are."

Jazz returned his focus to Prowl and stroking his thumb over his helm, absently listening as Ratchet and Wheeljack worked their way through the crew, bringing them all up to speed with their situation as quickly as possible. He stayed curled around his mate, as shocked as the rest of them and unable to bring himself to move.

When most of the others were online, Optimus decided to send Hound out. Jazz agreed with the choice, the scout was brimming with curious energy and he was one of the best they had. Cliffjumper went with him, and it left the rest of the crew--for all they knew, the last of their kind--to sit in silence. His gaze drifted across the various mecha as he felt Prowl enter the final boot stage.

Sideswipe and Mirage were sort of leaning against each other while Sunstreaker scowled and stood guard, mostly because he was only slightly more uncomfortable with public displays of affection than the other two. This was the most Jazz had seen any of them really acknowledge it in public by physical contact beyond Mirage being on one of their arms. Smokescreen was quietly soothing the very distressed Bluestreak, whose doorwings were hiked high and so tense they were outright shaking, Ironhide was frowning by himself in a corner, and everyone else had grouped together. 

Prowl's field suddenly teeked with the warmth of being fully online and Jazz looked down. "Hello," he murmured. "How's the tac-net?"

"Still booting, but all readings come back good," Prowl leaned towards his mate with more overt affection than he was normally capable of. "Should I keep it off for a while?"

Jazz glanced up at Optimus, whose optics glowed warmly as he nodded once. "Until Hound and Cliffjumper return, we will remain here and take no action," he affirmed. 

"Keep it off," Jazz whispered to his mate, leaning in to brush their lips together. "World's gone freaky, Prowler. Maybe we should find some intact quarters and talk about it." 

"You've lost your doorwings," Prowl agreed into the soft contact, and wanting much more. With the reluctance of a frame that had been still for many times longer than he had been functioning, Prowl got to his pedes and pinged for a location from Teletraan I.

The front half of the Ark was half crushed, half filled in with local rock, but there were plenty of untouched quarters, including theirs. They hadn't had time to recharge in them before they'd been attacked in the first few moments of what should have been a much longer voyage, but the door still closed and locked. 

In the end, that was more than enough. Jazz helped Prowl up to his pedes and they got knowing looks from the others as they retreated away from the bridge. 

"Check your chronometer yet?" Jazz asked quietly as the door clicked shut behind them. 

"No ... do I want to?" Prowl sounded wary with good reason.

"Probably not," Jazz said, pushing Prowl down into a sit on the berth and climbing onto his lap, drawing him up for another deep kiss. "Don't look until the tac-net's on, okay?"

"Mmm, which won't be until after we've become familiar with our new forms," Prowl purred, willingly distracted by the kiss and the warmth in his lap. His hands came up to rove along Jazz's back, taking in the new design. It wasn't all that different from his Praxian one, except his doors were folded in differently. It was his face that had seen the largest change, one that Prowl didn't understand and suspected he shouldn't think about. Stubby sensor horns replaced the graceful chevron, though his visor had been left intact.

When he brushed his fingers over one of the horns, Jazz shivered and gasped as it sent data cascading through his sensor net, the field of a lover making it register as _pleasure_. "Do that a-- _aah_ ," he sighed, and dipped his head to press his lips against Prowl's neck, grazing his denta along the cables as Prowl continued to rub.

"You always have been so very responsive to me," Prowl's purr deepened at his mate's pleasure. He tipped his helm back to offer his throat more freely and brought his other hand up to stimulate both sensor horns at once. "My beautiful Jazz."

Jazz moaned deeply and pressed his glossa forward, sliding along wires and rocking in Prowl's lap, hands roaming the more familiar form. His frame had to have been more damaged, to lose the chevron and doorwings in what had apparently been a more extensive rebuild, but right now, all that meant was a lingering ache and more new surfaces for Prowl to explore later. 

"Do you realize," Jazz said softly, "How many odds we've beaten to still be alive?"

"No, and I don't want to," Prowl gasped as Jazz's glossa found a sensitive spot in his neck cabling. "Tac-net will tell me too soon. We're alive, we're together. That's all I care about right now." He leaned back, settling carefully on his back and drawing Jazz down on top of him while his hands moved down to explore more of the new frame.

Jazz covered him, felt a pang of loss for the doorwings and how they had once helped him shield his mate from the world, and his thighs clenched around Prowl's hips, rolling in small circles as the kisses grew deeper and more frantic, moving from tender to clashing. 

Interfacing hardlines were exchanged and silent cries moved over them with the first charged pulses and they ground their hips together, every cover open, spikes sliding against each other when Jazz lifted himself up and angled his frame back to sheath his lover. "Ah--Prowler," he groaned, welcoming the sensation of feeling full with the single spike in all the universe he had been designed to take. 

"Jazz!" Prowl arched and thrust into that tight, slick and oh so welcoming heat as he was encased perfectly. "Love. Bonded. _Mine!_ "

"Good, _so_ good," Jazz gasped, mouth on Prowl's neck, rocking and shuddering and working his valve, forcing flexibility back into the lining after being frozen in place for so many millennia, lubricant warming and helping them slide together. The heat from the friction helped and Jazz squeezed around the sensitive metal of his lover's length, pleasuring, rippling, soothing the ache with every push. 

"Love you," Prowl cried out as sensations rushed through systems that had felt nothing in an impossibly long time, even as his mind remembered this from what felt like only a few joors ago, with only the full-frame soreness to remind him otherwise. Yet they both had found pleasure when their frames were more than just aching from repairs and reformatting and it was soon lost in the haze of bliss that was being together. A few joors or tens of thousands of vorns apart, they needed this connection and the relief it brought had little to do with the pleasure and overload that soon claimed them. Crying and trembling as they clutched each other, Prowl's small reserve of transfluid shot into his lover to complete the connection with the deepest recesses of his valve.

When it was over they stayed joined and didn't stop pushing at each other, small shocks moving up and through them. "Wanna stay here for a while or head back out and start to assess?" Jazz whispered into a kiss. "Lotta work to do."

"I want your spike first," Prowl moaned into a deeper kiss. "Need to feel you, all of you. Then work."

"Mmm, good," Jazz moaned, and pulled off his lover, getting between his legs, pushing Prowl's thighs open with his knees. One hand came down to encircle his spike and stroked as he teased at the eager valve with his tip. "There'll be plenty-- _oh_ yes!" he cried with a shudder as he pushed forward and felt Prowl envelope him with an eagerness that never failed to warm him. "Yes, babe, _yes!_ "

Prowl's voice was lost to a keen of bliss and joy, his field flush with the pleasure he took in the long-beloved act. He rolled and thrust into Jazz's movements, working that exquisite spike with rapt attention.

"Love you, love you," Jazz repeated, almost in a chant, lost and wanting, clutching to his lover as they moved together. Endless moments, hazy and blissful, crying out when ecstasy finally took them. 

They were panting together on the berth when Optimus commed to let them know that Hound had been injured and Ratchet was retrieving. ::I would like you out here by the time they're back,:: he said. 

::Acknowledged, Prime,:: Jazz said, nuzzling against Prowl's neck, engines purring contentedly. 

"Booting tac-net," Prowl said quietly, as much a warning as anything. While he and the AI got along well, and they were created for much the same function, activating the massive hardware did make significant changes in him.

It didn't make Jazz any less snuggly even when his mate's field became colder. "So, chronometer time," he said when he teeked the tac-net's full awareness come online. 

There was a pause, a ripple of shock that came from both processors. The AI adapted first, filing that into a huge number of plans to run recalculations on. That kept Prowl's processors working while Prowl absorbed the information and began to come to terms with it.

What it really came down to, for Prowl, was that all he cared about, those he claimed as family, were here and alive. It was impossible odds, but all seven of them were functional.

"I ... believe I am functional enough to return to duty," Prowl said quietly. He was still a touch dazed, but he was stable enough.

"Don't worry about being completely together," Jazz murmured. "Everyone's in shock." He took a deep kiss and pulled out of his lover, reaching into his subspace for a cloth and tossing another to Prowl. "No communications from Cybertron, but our equipment is pretty slagged so that doesn't necessarily mean anything." 

"How badly damaged is Hound?" Prowl asked as he made quick work of making himself presentable. "His report is invaluable."

"Stuck in alt mode," Jazz said, stretching out the kinks in his cables that the interfacing hadn't loosened. "He'll be fine." They headed back out to where everyone else was still gathered, Optimus was talking with Bumblebee at the monitors, but hardly anyone else had moved. 

Mirage rose and sidled his way over to them, leaning in with a knowing smile. "You're impossible," he told his boss in a low murmur. 

"You're not much better," Jazz said with a smirk. "Come on, hadn't been 'faced in 45 millennia, can you blame me?" 

"You were in stasis for most of that," Mirage said with a roll of his optics, though he was suddenly looking at the twins in a new light. 

"Any excuse I can find," Jazz said as Ratchet drove in, followed by Cliffjumper and Hauler, and then everyone watched as the damaged Hound was unloaded and Ratchet got to work as Prowl took the report. 

"Jazz," Optimus said, frowning as Hound relayed the Decepticons' plan. "Organize a battle unit. We're going after them."

* * *

With the humans' radio frequencies restored, Megatron quietly back in his base for the moment, and an exhausting handful of joors behind them, the Autobots were all too glad to take advantage of the relative peace of a night joor and the Ark had mecha sprawled all over it. 

Back in what had once been storage and was now dedicated as a gathering space, six different cubes of high grade had been pulled from six different stashes and were being passed around. Split ten ways, it did very little in the way of overcharging, but at this point, it was really the thought that counted. 

Jazz leaned back against Prowl, his lover's arms around his frame, and took his sip before passing a cube to the right to Wheeljack, whose helm fins glowed gratefully.

"Humans," Jazz said, tipping his head back to Prowl's shoulder. "Live fast and die young."

"And yet their life expectancy exceeds what is biologically dictated," Prowl hummed before kissing a sensor horn, a feature he was growing quite fond of. "They are not a healthy species overall, and they do not seem to realize that being the last of their genus and heavily inbred is not a good thing for long-term survival of a biological form."

"They're close to being technologically able to separate _Homo sapiens_ from natural genetic regulation," Ratchet spoke up. "Within a vorn, two at the most, they will no longer be a natural species."

"Or they will obliterate themselves in the effort," Prowl countered. "Based on their historical behavior, I calculate a 48.93% probability of extinction within three vorns by their own actions."

"I just wish they would _slow down_ ," Mirage groaned from where he was curled in Sideswipe's lap, and even Sunstreaker was relaxed enough to be leaning against them. "Three joors is an awfully short time for their version of an orn cycle. It's exhausting. You can't even get a proper recharge cycle in before you're being accused of being withdrawn or absent."

"Or a proper 'face, for that matter," Sideswipe rumbled, helm pressed against the spy's. 

"I find them rather fascinating," Optimus said warmly, field practically aglow with contentment, surrounded by as many dedicated pairs as he was. 

"Optimus, dear, you go right ahead and find them fascinating," Mirage said. "At least you don't find their mudball of a planet as interesting as Hound does." He shuddered.

"He's a scout," Jazz laughed in good humor. "He was _created_ to drive around worlds like this."

"Much like Seaspray and Skyfire. They were never intended to live on Cybertron for long," Prowl hummed, his spark content at being surrounded by kin by spark, adoption and mating. He looked around and found himself almost feeling normal. His tac-net helpfully pointed out that he had been created to be the leader of just such a gathering. The servants of a House were often relatives, but it did not matter their spark line, or if they had one. Once they were his, they were family. His responsibility. He reveled in his family getting along. It fed a part of him that he had long denied, part that needed to know, to witness, that he was successfully managing his family and they got along. It was how a House ran best.

"Thank Primus for Bumblebee," Smokescreen said, drawing Prowl from his musing. Smokescreen's hands were moving over Bluestreak's doorwings, his massage the only thing that was keeping the younger Praxian quiet for this long. "He's an excellent pseudo-diplomat." 

"Yeah," Jazz grinned, proud of the minibot that had long been one of his best scouts. "Who'd've guessed?" 

Ratchet snorted. "He's less likely to squish one of them that most of us. It makes perfect sense they would be drawn to him." 

"By that logic, you'd think that Cliffjumper would be more popular," Bluestreak snickered, and then cringed a little as the twins' engines growled at the mention of the red minibot. "Right, yeah, sorry."

"Bumblebee also has a relatively calm and youthful, outgoing demeanor," Prowl added, steering conversation back to something more neutral. "Even if he is older than I am, he does not project his age. His seeming youth makes him less threatening as well."

"Blaster's lot, at least the biped ones, do well too," Jazz said as he gave a relaxed moan from Prowl's light stroking of his frame.

"You have ... an entire half joor until sunrise," Mirage said, grinning. "If you'd like to find a room." 

"Mm, nah," Jazz said, utterly content where he was. "Not worth it to move." 

"And we have that public relations meeting in two joors," Prowl added. "I highly doubt he'd want to stop before then." 

"Hey!" Jazz said, tweaking his mate's plating. "'S not just me, y'know."

"Yes, but you are the vocal one about it," Prowl chuckled and tipped Jazz's face up for a kiss. "I must agree that the rotation of this planet does make everything feel very rushed. Even without needing to communicate with the humans it would be stressful."

"Has anyone else noticed that the Cons aren't fighting like they used to?" Sunstreaker suddenly spoke up.

"You mean the part where they've gone slaggin' insane?" Ratchet snorted. "Yeah. I personally suspect processor damage."

"Very likely so," Wheeljack chimed in brightly, and started to ramble on about the possible damage based on the effects shown. 

"...And without a properly trained medic," Ratchet interrupted after a little while, "Unfortunately, not much will change." 

"Well that's just great," Jazz said. "An evil, megalomaniacal dictator who is _completely unpredictable._ "

"His recent plans have been ... less than sound," Optimus said heavily.

"He is far less predictable, however he is also far more easy to run off without serious casualties," Prowl nearly purred. "Meanwhile, they are not gaining enough energon to properly fuel their forces while we have enough to enjoy high grade on occasion once more." He gave a knowing nod towards Sideswipe. "The longer this arrangement persists, the greater an advantage we will gain. Even a half-vorn at the current rate of production will dramatically shift the balance of power on both worlds."

"And if we can gain control over the space bridge and oust Shockwave..." Jazz said. 

"Not like Cybertron is much of a prize anymore," Smokescreen said, shaking his head, and the room was quiet for a little while. 

"But rebuilding, we can start rebuilding, right?" Bluestreak said. "There are other Autobots left, if everyone can be gathered and ... well, creations," he muttered, and his field blushed brightly, making Smokescreen look startled. 

" _Creations_ ," Mirage purred deeply with a longing trill. 

"Overrated," Jazz said with a grin and a hand wave towards the twins, who mock-glared back at him. The flare of _want_ against his back spoke of Prowl's desires more clearly than any words.

"It would be wonderful to have little ones running about, safe from violence." Optimus rumbled deeply, reveling in the desires flowing so smoothly around him. Even the tension, mostly between Prowl, Jazz and their three creations, was more affectionate than angry. "To rebuild, to use the lessons of war to prevent it from happening again for the same reasons. I believe it is possible. Soon."

"For once, my Prime, I agree with you," Prowl nuzzled his love. "It is probable we can end the war within five vorns."

"And if Prowl says so then I bet it's gonna happen," Bluestreak said brightly, and fields all around the room teeked hopeful. Prowl did not make such predictions. Not a single mecha there had ever heard him express an opinion that the war was likely to end, much less end soon and to their advantage.

It made living easier. 

* * *

Jazz had to admit that he was a little impressed with how _fast_ the humans managed to create for beings of their makeup and size, although trying to keep up with the never-ending changing political landscape of their world was an exhausting exercise in monitoring their news networks. So far, the Autobots seemed to be held in favor by the majority of them, and most recently, this city had decided to erect a statue of Optimus Prime and had invited them to the event. 

Jazz had been sent with Cliffjumper and was happy to stand and listen to their music--one thing he _did_ enjoy very much about the planet, even if their compositions tended to be far too short to dance to--and hid his grin as the announcer got Cliffjumper's English designation wrong. Mostly, he was thinking about getting back to the Ark and finding a quarter joor _somewhere_ to grab Prowl for a good necking. 

Oh, and American slang. He _loved_ American slang. For as limited as the language was, they had some fabulous words in it. 

But the roar of a jet engine meant that getting home early just wasn't going to be in the cards today. 

"Are they Decepticons?" Cliffjumper asked, squaring off defensively. 

Jazz scanned the six approaching forms, startled by how bad the construction of the five he didn't recognize was, but nodded. "They must be," he said, and the humans began to scatter. "Their leader's Starscream." 

As he was trying to work out why they were _here_ \--to destroy the statue? Was it symbolic?--Starscream ordered them to transform and the next thing they knew they were being pinned beneath a sonic attack, then cold, then energy. Things got even crazier from there, but Jazz stopped paying attention for the most part when he heard a designation he honestly had never expected to encounter again.

 _Vortex_.

He almost crashed just from hearing it-- _almost_ \--and somewhere through it all he realized they were all still speaking an old Cybertronian dialect and logged that as important while he attempted to reach the Ark, but the comm signal fritzed out, blocked. Through the howl of wind he heard Cliffjumper yelling at him to contact base, which meant the minibot was having no better luck than he was, and then the sheer speed and pressure of the vortex knocked him offline. 

When he booted, he was tied securely against something and when he cautiously extended his field without onlining his visor, he felt Cliffjumper next to him. He could hear arguing, still in the old Kaon dialect, and he heard enough designations to confirm that he hadn't just glitched the rotor's. Onslaught, Brawl, Swindle, Blast Off. There was _no_ way Megatron had authorized their release, which meant the likely culprit was Starscream. 

Visor coming online he felt an answering pressure from Cliffjumper's field, and he tried his comm again. Still being scrambled. "Cliff," he hissed softly in English and hoped that Starscream wasn't listening. "Don't say my name, in any language."

"Why?" the argumentative minibot hissed back, though there was a hint in his field that it was from habit rather than any inclination to disobey.

"Because your stocking will get filled with coal if you do," Jazz snarled. "Just don't."

Jazz's tone did what orders could not. Cliffjumper was not one of those used to Jazz's more commanding, vicious nature when riled and he stilled, intimidated by whatever could make the cheerful mech like that.

They sat as motionless as possible while listening to the others and Jazz took in as much of their frames as he could--old, cheap Earth material. That Starscream had managed to use it to create five working frames was almost unbelievable, and Jazz would have scoffed if he hadn't been looking at it himself. 

They were arguing about power intake, so Jazz's best guess was that they didn't have the proper converters to get energy from their fuel tanks. Vortex-- _Vortex_ \--still had a rotor frame, and Jazz kept most of his attention on him, worried that if he came too close he'd teek what he had, and kept his field flat to his armor. 

When they finally left, Jazz's frame slumped in relief. 

* * *

Jazz and Cliffjumper were now tied up alongside Dirge and Ramjet and all four were watching the squabble that was currently taking place between Megatron and Starscream. Jazz was finding himself almost wishing for _anything_ else in the universe to listen to when motion overhead caught his attention and he focused in to see Powerglide. He nudged Cliffjumper with his field and gestured up with his chin. 

"Finally," Cliffjumper muttered. "Took 'em--" He broke off very suddenly and Jazz looked back down to see--

Primus below. 

"A _gestalt?_ " he hissed. Starscream had constructed a _gestalt_ out of old Earth war vehicles? It added a layer of complication to his plans on getting his hands on Vortex, but hopefully being such a new gestalt they wouldn't have the kind of aggressive protectiveness over each other that those groups of mecha tended to form. 

"Optimus!" Cliffjumper said suddenly. "Hey, hey Optimus!" 

Jazz looked to see Optimus, Prowl, Bumblebee, Ratchet, and Grapple standing in the distance. Prowl _looked_ implacable as always, and willingly allowed Ratchet and Grapple to rescue the prisoners instead of rushing for his mate. There weren't that many mecha present that understood just how much self-control that involved, and Jazz absently wondered where the rest of their makeshift family was. Smokescreen was probably back at base, Bluestreak would be in a sniper spot and no one saw Mirage anyway, but he really did expect to see the twins given the fight in the offering.

Ratchet reached him first and made short work of the chains with his saw while Grapple freed Cliffjumper.

"Can you transform and roll?" Ratchet asked quietly, grateful for the cover of battle.

"Yeah, we're undamaged," Jazz said, glancing towards Prowl. "Ratchet, that gestalt, it's--"

"We know," Ratchet said in a low voice, and he looked more than ready to be out of there. "Cons thought we'd stolen the prisoners but it was Starscream. Optimus's orders are to not engage." 

"But--" 

"Hey," the medic said, "If we're lucky, Megatron'll do what he shoulda done the first time, all right? Right now we just want to get out of here in one piece!" 

Jazz nodded, transformed, and raced with Ratchet back to where the others were grouped. He was soon in Prowl's arms, and the _rage-relief-kill-protect- **kill-it**_ roiling through his field explained why Prime had kept him back well enough.

"He's there--it's _him_ ," Jazz said as they turned to watch the ongoing battle between the two gestalts, clutching his mate tightly. For a moment, a brief, fleeting, awful moment it looked like Starscream and his gestalt were going to win the confrontation when the Stunticons arrived, and then there was _hope_ that Megatron would finally kill the lot of them, but when they saw the order he gave to the arriving Astrotrain--

"No!" Jazz screamed, as Ratchet and Grapple grabbed him and it took both of them to keep him there, and Prime had his hands on Prowl immediately. " _No! Let go of me I have to get him they're taking him away!_ "

Prowl's engine snarled much like his mate's as rocket launchers transformed into place and locked onto Astrotrain. His field was a wild cacophony of panic and rage. Like his mate, he couldn't take seeing Vortex escape again. Not like this, back to where they couldn't reach him again.

Someone shouted a curse and Optimus yanked Prowl around to take his aim off the Decepticons, trying to get Prowl to hear him when he said that they were badly outnumbered and _would not_ win in a fight against two gestalts and the Seekers, while Ratchet managed to get Jazz wrestled to the ground. He finally got a cable plugged into the medical port on his neck as Astrotrain took off and disappeared into the sky. 

Jazz screamed when the medic hacked and forced his way through systems that that he only survived due to how familiar he was with them, and in the next moment, his patient slumped into a forced stasis. 

"Fraggit!" Ratchet snarled. "That damn glitch again!"

It was more than Prowl could take and he suddenly slumped as his tac-net's AI forcefully took over the frame. He stood and those present saw just what a drone in a mech's frame looked like.

"...Uh, wow," Cliffjumper said, from where he was standing a safe distance away with Bumblebee, both of them staring as the SIC and TIC seemingly lost their minds.

"What did we just see?" Bumblebee asked uneasily of any of the officers.

Optimus sighed heavily, looking between Jazz and Prowl. "You saw two mecha who were once badly hurt and permanently damaged by an oppressive caste system. Beyond that, you'll have to ask them. They don't usually mind telling." 

"Suffice it to say," Ratchet said as he transformed and opened his bay doors for Jazz to be loaded, "Only one thing in the universe can make them behave like that. They'll be fit for duty as soon as they've both had a good defrag and a hard reboot." 

Optimus smiled warmly at the AI. "Would you like to shut down and let Ratchet transport this frame back?"

"Yes. That is preferable," it responded smoothly. With only a grunt from Ratchet it loaded itself into his hold and shut down for the drive back.

"That ... was weird," Bumblebee murmured, but transformed and followed his leader to the Ark.

* * *

Optimus Prime stood by the medbay doors, both as guard to ensure the pair did not successfully bolt and as friendly support if they needed it. He had no doubt that the shock of learning Vortex was once more in a frame, on Earth and within firing range after all the centuries they hadn't been able to touch him and then witnessing him banished from Earth had simply been too much shock for them to take. He was sure they'd be more reasonable, or at least rational, once they rebooted as themselves.

It had been beyond disturbing, what he had seen. Glitches were never fun, but what Jazz suffered was horrible, and Prowl ... he had never seen the Praxian out of control before. Nothing like that at least. He hadn't actually known that the AI could force Prowl to shut down. He wasn't sure _Prowl_ knew it could do that. If he didn't, he would be in for another shock when he finished booting and reviewed the final moments of awareness.

"Bringing them up now. Jazz should finish at least a few breems before Prowl," Ratchet commented to no one. He and Prime were the only ones in this room for good reason. As easily as they made everyone else forget, a few mecha never lost track of how dangerous they both were. Prowl in particular had an exceptional function for looking harmless. Not that many knew he came out of SpecOps. Fewer knew what he did between the fall of Praxus and becoming an Autobot, or that the gap was over eleven hundred vorns spent in the core of Decepticon territory, alone and unsupported but for his mate.

Not even the Decepticons knew just what these two had done in their lives.

Optimus forcefully pushed those thoughts away and focused on Jazz as his systems finished booting up. He never lost track of Prowl, though. Just because he _should_ take longer than Jazz did not mean he _would_. Bringing mecha up after a forced shutdown was always a questionable procedure. Some booted normally, others went right into combat before their processors turned on.

Jazz's visor flickered on and he was still, and then he shot upright and looked around, every line of his frame tense and rigid until then he saw Prowl. He relaxed just nanokliks before Ratchet was ready to jump in with a sedative, then found Optimus. "He's gone?" 

But it wasn't a question, not really. 

"Yes," Optimus answered. "There will be another opportunity. Megatron never remains angry with Starscream for long."

Jazz x-vented and visibly settled himself. "Whether the others will find themselves in his good graces again is less certain." He stretched his arms up over his head and reclined back onto the berth, quirked grin in place. "Sorry 'bout that freak out, man. How'd Prowler get KO'd?"

Optimus hesitated, then answered. "The AI took over. He was as set on attacking as you, but still had his ranged weapons."

"Ooh, that's a party crasher for sure," Jazz said, rolling over and reaching out to his mate, pressing his palm against his plating to feel the warmth and booting field. "...He make any shots? Maybe a glancing blow?"

"No," Optimus said. "I disrupted his target lock before he could fire."

"Mm. Shoulda set 'im loose, we coulda taken Cybertron back with that kinda mood." Jazz grinned at his Prime. "Do we know where they were taken?"

"Space, somewhere," Optimus told him, then paused when Prowl's optics flickered to life.

"I was not aware that the AI could do that," Prowl said quietly.

"Good thing it can, or you would have been pretty slagged," Ratchet huffed.

"Pretty fantastically slagged," Jazz agreed, and slid off his berth, jumping easily up into a straddle above his lover. "Hey Prowler."

Prowl hummed and reached up to slide his hands up Jazz's arms. "So close, _again_."

"But he's _out_ ," Jazz said with a vicious grin. "Out and if we know anything about Screamer, he'll find a way back to Megs, and if we get lucky, he'll bring the walking scrap heap with 'im. Hey, speaking of that," Jazz looked up at Ratchet. "Did you _see_ what he made out of half-vorn old human wreckage?"

"Yes, they weren't a gestalt before either," Ratchet grumbled. "He really built that from _human_ scrap?"

"Could still see the faction markings and everything," Jazz said, fingers moving absently over his mate's frame as he nodded. "Didn't exactly get up close and personal if y'know what I mean, but yeah, their alts were old human war machines."

Ratchet could only shake his helm. "Did you find out why they had the four of you tied up?"

"And why didn't you escape?" Prowl asked with a touch of concern while his fingers got into Jazz's front undercarriage.

It made Jazz purr and arch. "Um ... 'causa energy ... stuff ... mmm, Prowl, Prowler..."

Ratchet cleared his vocalizer out sharply and Jazz grabbed Prowl's hand and looked at the medic. "Starscream didn't build them with the ability to convert fuel into energy and he told them when there were five of us he'd take our converters and install them. Just a way to keep 'em on his leash. Learned plenty from being on Megatron's, apparently." He looked back down at Prowl, grip loosening. "And I was watching. Safer with him in my sights."

"All right," Prowl's fingers squirmed into Jazz's undercarriage again, drawing him into a shameless kiss, utterly uncaring of the audience or location, other than it being reasonably safe.

"Oh for _frag's_ sake," Ratchet said. "What are you, 200? Get a fragging room!" 

"Hear that?" Jazz asked into a grinning kiss. "Doc's orders, get a room an' frag. First thing you've ever ordered that's made sense, Ratch." 

"Don't forget you're scheduled to be present as a diplomatic representative in Washington in four joors, Prowl," Optimus said, doing a poor job of hiding his amusement.

"Yes, sir," Prowl managed between heated kisses as they got off the berth. "Will you be joining us until then?"

Convoy class engines rumbled deeply. "Yes, I believe I will," Optimus said, and happily followed along.


	51. Vengeance is Sweet

Watching Megatron voluntarily destroy Bruticus on Cybertron was almost too good to be true, and with no way to contact Earth with Shockwave having regained control over the planet's communications, Optimus, Prowl, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker were forced to return on the space bridge. 

Not one of them really believed that the tyrant had actually destroyed such a powerful weapon, but it didn't stop Prowl's doorwings from quivering with tension and comming his mate the moment they were back on Earth. 

::Hey babe!:: came Jazz's cheerful reply, confirming Prowl's suspicions. Vortex was still alive. ::How was Cybertron, cooler than Earth, yeah? 'Jack says we're moving away from the sun again?:: 

::Yes,:: Prowl confirmed, and hid the disappointment as he relayed the news to Prime, focusing instead on one thing: Bruticus, and therefore Vortex, were in Megatron's control and it was overwhelmingly likely they would all shortly be on Earth. When he got back to base, he immediately pinged his mate's location and went to him.

Jazz was crouching down on the floor, working Mirage through the settings on a land mine, when the brush of Prowl's field made him look up.

"Jazz," Prowl said. "He's back."

A nanoklik of stillness, and then Jazz cocked his head with a flash of his visor and a cruel grin. He turned to his SIC, who knew exactly what those words meant. "Mirage, baby, I have somethin' ta see to."

Mirage purred deeply and nodded. "Do the twins know?"

"They saw what I did on Cybertron," Prowl affirmed.

Jazz hummed and rose gracefully to his pedes and slipped his hand around his mate's arm. "What do you know?"

* * *

Jazz stood with Optimus, Ratchet, and Hoist on a cliff edge, firing at the Combaticons the moment they transformed back into root mode, attempting to drive them away from the worn out Aerialbots. One of the fliers was trapped beneath a rockslide and the rest were pinned down and unable to reach their gestalt mate. 

Jazz cared, he really did, but he had Vortex in his sights and for the moment, that was taking up his entire focus. Centuries of war had honed his aim and he watched the 'copter frame moving, lined up his pistol, and fired. 

The shot caught Vortex in the tail, knocking out his steering and sending him careening sideways into the canyon. The rest of the Combaticons scattered and Jazz disarmed his weapon with a grim teek. "Optimus," he said calmly, watching the smoking, unmoving wreckage. "Prowler an' me are requestin' a temporary leave of duty." 

Optimus was quiet, Ratchet shifted uneasily and quickly left with Hoist to go help free the trapped flier. Optimus murmured that he'd be along shortly and turned to Jazz. "Are you certain this is what you wish to do?" 

"Tell me why I can't touch my mate's spark and ask me again," Jazz said coldly, looking at his Prime. 

Optimus nodded and squeezed his shoulder. "Please stay within comm range," was his only request. "When you've worked out more details, let me know." 

"We will," Jazz said, and transformed into his Earth alt, making his way down to the rotor. 

Even offline and with a different frame, Vortex was enough to make Jazz shudder when he was close, but he didn't even hesitate as he installed a virus to keep him in stasis, bound him in cuffs, and then commed his mate. ::I have him.::

Prowl replied with a hum over the comm, the harmonics that of understanding, intense anticipation and an inability to form words in his excitement.

Jazz pinged his coordinates, called in a favor from Skyfire, and in less than a joor he, Prowl, and their prize were in the air. A quick stop back at the Ark for Ratchet to remove the blocker, and then they were deep within an abandoned nuclear reactor in Siberia, isolated from the world and the comms of everyone but their family with an emergency signal.

They would be here until they chose to leave, Optimus reluctantly granting the leave that might take decades of Earth years, understanding that their loyalty to each other was stronger than their loyalty to the Autobots, and choosing the option of having them back some orn rather than never seeing them again, and quite possibly loosing the rest of their kin as well. Smokescreen and Bluestreak were unlikely to leave, though it was possible, but Mirage's loyalty was unquestionably to Jazz, and it would not take him long, second creation and subordinate mate or not, to convince the twins to leave as well.

When the doors locked and the roar of Skyfire's engine faded, Jazz pushed Prowl against the wall, kissing him with a quivering, passionate excitement. "Let's wake him."

* * *

Vortex roused aching all over and with the distinctive pattern of coming out of forced stasis. Which made sense. He remembered being shot and crashing.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," came a purr in a mix of languages, native Cybertronian and the abomination of an Earth dialect.

"Huh?" Vortex struggled through the last of the boot cycle and finally focused on a pair of black and white mecha that didn't look right. "Autobots," he identified them with a sneer about the same time he realized he was very well secured and dangling in the middle of the room.

"Technically," the same voice said, the slightly smaller of the two and lacking the doorwings the other had. He stepped forward, visor glinting. "Do you know who I am?"

"Something tasty I'll get to ravage at some point," Vortex sneered.

The mech's laughter at that was clear and bright and ... unhinged. "Wrong guess," he said, and Vortex felt something _slam_ into his spark, sharp and furious and cold. The mech didn't move, but his visor had grown brighter in the silence. "That hurts," he pouted. "How could you forget me, did our time together mean nothing to you?"

Vortex's confusion went from wartime prisoner to a much earlier moment, a vorn of exquisite perfection, and he could only stare at the black and white as he poked at the part of his spark he'd actually given up on and tried to block the memory of. "Jazz?" He used nearly the oldest variant of Jazz's adult designation, the one from that vorn they'd been together as a bonded couple, when Jazz had been his subservient mate.

Jazz grinned and cocked his head. "Hello, my Bonded," he said warmly, mimicking his first noble accent and voice. 

"Why you," rage roared to life in Vortex's spark and processor, flooding the bond with his fury. "I _will_ teach you your place, you ungrateful little brat! I gave you _everything!_ I fueled you and gave you wealth and put _life_ inside you! I got you everything you asked for, you glitched pile of scrap, you should have known better than to try and leave me, you little....!" It went on and on, furious shrieking and insults that meant nothing from a bound mech. 

Jazz waited until the rant tapered off, watching calmly, his own spark absorbing the rage and everything else that came with it. The rotor was too riled up to watch what he was sending over, and there were endless layers of emotion there. "Temper," Jazz finally chided. "Who taught you your manners? And--ah, speaking of manners, I've forgotten mine!" he said, brightening and reaching out to Prowl, slipping his hand into his mate's and drawing him forward. "You remember Prowl, don't you? He looked a little different the last time you met?"

"Prowl?" Vortex repeated, then roared and lunged for the Praxian, who tensed but didn't move away. "Thief!" he shrieked, rumbling into another vile rant of all he was going to do when he got free, even more incensed than he had been at Jazz.

"You still don't realize it, do you?" Prowl spoke when the ranting calmed again. "Just a little less possessive and you could have owned Cybertron."

That stilled the rotor to stare at them.

"All you had to do was allow him to spike me now and then and I would have doubled your fortune every few vorns," Prowl spelled it out. "You couldn't allow that, and so we set about destroying you. I grant it we took entirely too long to call it a job well done, but this little thing called a war and the detention center got in the way."

"You nasty, _thieving_ little--" Vortex snarled, causing Jazz to scoff and grab the pulley system that the rotor was strung up on and release it, letting him drop with a hard _thud_. Before he could do anything about, the chains around his ankles and wrists had tightened again and he was on his knees, arms wrenched up. 

"Did you even _listen_ to him?" Jazz hissed, stalking over to him and grabbing the top of his chestplates, yanking him close. "Do you _understand_ what he just told you? I would have _fucked_ you for eternity if you'd just let me play with a servant, _as was my entitled right!_ He was _no threat_ to you! I would have given you adoration, as many creations as you wanted, and _Primus help me_ , I would have even let you do whatever you wanted with them! But you had to have me _all_ to yourself, didn't you?"

"You are _mine!_ " Vortex snarled back, unable to comprehend anything of what he was being told. It went against _him_ , what he was, what he wanted.

Jazz just stared at him for a moment, and something almost like pity went through his field before he shook his head with disgust. "No," he said coldly, moving away. "I'm really not." 

Vortex's almost white glare followed him back to Prowl where Jazz pulled his lover, mate, bonded, _everything_ into a slow, deep kiss. When it broke, he turned back. "The Prime granted Prowl and me our bond--a legal bond only, there are a few obstacles before we can complete the formalities, but we'll go over those later--which dissolved any legal attachment between us."

"What?" Vortex thrashed against the bindings, enraged at what he was being told. "He can't do that! I paid for you! You are _mine_. That ... that _thing_ has no right to touch you!"

"He really does not understand," Prowl murmured in utter amazement. "I knew he was insane, but to not grasp even that much...."

"Coulda been the detention center," Jazz hummed as they watched Vortex with little more emotion than they would have watched a rabid creature in a zoo. He pulled his love back into a kiss and listened to the insane howling of their prisoner go up a notch. "I want you to spread me wide and make him watch," he purred, his field _alive_ with anticipation.

Prowl shivered. "On you back, on your knees, against the wall, riding me?" He managed to ask as field, frame and spark all focused on the singular desire to _please_ his love. He kissed Jazz fervently, then worked down to his neck cabling while his hands skimmed over the now-familiar frame. "Should I taste your spike first?"

"Ooh, yes, before I ride you," Jazz purred, shifting and resting his hands on Prowl's hips, grinding their pelvises together. He tossed a grin at Vortex. "Something he loves to do."

"Love to please my Jazz," Prowl moaned and came up for a heated, sloppy kiss, grinning against his mate while their prey, their nightmare, thrashed in his binding and howled in outrage. Slowly he knelt, trailing kisses down Jazz's chest. "Soon this will be mine, fully and forever," he laid a palm over Jazz's spark. "As mine will be yours."

"It's always been yours, since the moment I was sparked," Jazz whispered, hands on his mate's chevron as his head tossed back. "Got a new spike the night we ran away from you," he said for Vortex. "We designed our equipment to match each other, you wouldn't believe how _good_ it feels together." His vocalizer hitched as Prowl's lips found his spike cover and began to worship the smooth black metal.

"Aah, yes," Jazz sighed as the metal slid back and his spike jutted out, each section paid perfect, complete attention to as it extended, Prowl's glossa circling and stroking lovingly along his length. When Prowl pushed his mouth down and swallowed, Jazz's keen mixed with Vortex's outraged shriek and Prowl's pleasured hum.

It was always good, the pleasure, being with his _love_ , but the thrill of doing so in front of the mech who had almost destroyed them was a high like no other. Prowl's lips, glossa and intake all worked in perfect synch to drag cries of pleasure from Jazz. Each cry giving a spark to his own charge until his spike panel slid away and the intricately crafted spike began to pressurize on its own.

Jazz waited until he heard it fully extend and then his hands moved around Prowl's helm and gently tilted it back and off, leaving his spike glistening proudly. "On your back, helm towards _him_ ," he murmured, with a _glee_ he couldn't begin to contain in his field. 

Prowl gave a small whine at being denied his love's release, but moved to comply without hesitation. He spread himself out, helm towards the prisoner, and rolled his hips upward in offering.

"Later," Jazz promised him in a deep purr as he lowered down and covered his lover, sliding their frames together and rubbing his valve along Prowl's spike. "I want the first overload he sees me in to be on your spike, my love." He dipped down, pressed his lips against Prowl's audial, brushing them over metal. "I want him to see me _writhe_ in the ecstasy that he would have kept from me." 

Prowl shuddered at the words and implications. His hands moved along Jazz's back, stroking and tweaking, taking all the care he usually did while his hips rocked up against that exquisite slick heat. "You feel so good, love."

Jazz came back around and claimed a deep kiss and then rose upright, lining himself up with Prowl's length, and with his visor completely fixed on Vortex he lowered himself down, sheathing his lover. When he was settled completely he leaned back and braced himself on Prowl's thighs and gave a slow pull-push, giving Vortex a perfect view of the spike disappearing into his frame. 

The enraged cursing and promises of agony for them both only sweetened the physical pleasure, and Jazz could feel through their fields that Prowl was getting off on it just as much. Vortex still didn't seem to have any grasp of the fact that he was _never_ going to leave this place. Even if it meant setting off the small explosive charge by his spark now, the rotor would deactivate by the time anyone reached this room.

Prowl's moaned bliss, glyphs of devotion and adoration that acted as a sweet counterpoint to Vortex's snarled hate. Across the bond all the rotor's possessive rage poured into Jazz at an intensity that would have crushed him once, but now, just added heat and strength to the fire.

Jazz worked his mate, rode him hard and fast before slowing to a crawl and _squeezing_ until they both felt like they would explode, then rocked and twisted so fast that they were panting and flushing out heat as rapidly as their frames could manage. 

It was endless joors and Jazz slowed down every time they were close to overload, until Prowl was sobbing and begging beneath him and he was shaking so hard he could hardly keep his frame upright. "Ready, lover?" he panted.

"Yes!" Prowl keened, his frame desperate for the release he'd _needed_ for the last joor.

Jazz managed a nod, forced his vision back online to look right at Vortex, and then _drove_ down, rippling his valve around his mate, and let his field rush hot and sweet. The first burst of transfluid came as Prowl choked and seized beneath him and Jazz screamed and writhed in a desperate overload, all but _squirming_ on his lover as their fields exploded together, reaching far enough to pummel against Vortex's, which was wild with a rage that bordered on insanity. 

" _Ohh_ Prowl," Jazz moaned as another hard shudder went through him and the overload extended on, tumbling into a third, and a fourth rush of energy and crackling charge that had been too long pent up escaping their frames. Prowl's optics flared bright enough they almost burnt out as his frame arched and contorted with his screams that were as much in good-pain as pleasure until he dropped offline.

Jazz nearly followed, falling forward, and caught himself on his arms at the last instant, shuddering over Prowl and panting heavily as he fought the pull into recharge for long enough to lift his head and stare, grinning, at Vortex, who stared back with his face frozen in a snarl. 

"Do you know," Jazz said, static-laced, reaching down between his legs and leaning back again, splaying his fingers out to frame the view of Prowl's spike lodged in him, "How many times he's split me open?"

"He'll pay for every one," Vortex growled, optics bright and spark pulsing with the insanity that was blooming to its full once more.

Under Jazz Prowl booted, but only partway. His field was still crackling with charge but was the flat of the AI as he reached up, desperate as much as the AI could be, and clawed against Jazz's primary interface port, cable in hand.

Jazz's attention shifted down. "Shh," he murmured as he took the cable and felt the AI and frame relax under him, trusting him. It had been a long, hard road to earn that trust, one that Jazz hadn't even realized he'd been traveling until it hit him that the AI _did_ trust him with Prowl's frame and fate. Jazz first slicked the jack with his glossa in a caress that was entirely a show for Vortex before plugging it into his chest and stroking his mate's helm. 

The charge that poured over the line was a full, hard overload that wrenched a scream of bliss and shock from Jazz, then again  
 when a huge charge bloomed across his systems a second time.

" _Damn_ ," he gasped when it was over, slumping forward. " _Wow_ I need ta do that more often." He looked into the stunned face of his love, panting. "Please tell me there aren't risks to doing that all the time." 

"Unfortunately, yes," Prowl murmured, too dazed to give numbers. "Low, but there."

"Dang," Jazz said, and greeted his mate with a kiss. "I think 'Texy liked our show, love," he purred, as the rotor shrieked in the background. He took another kiss and then moved up and off, gliding over to him, as transfluid dripped down the insides of his thighs. "And it isn't just Prowl I've had, would you like ta see more?"

"I'll shred them _all!_ " Vortex snarled. "No one has the right to touch you but _me!_ "

"Take that as a yes," Prowl hummed in the background as he struggled to his pedes.

"Oh, lover," Jazz said, reaching out and stroking Vortex's face, but the subharmonics were a sharp contrast: disgust, revulsion, hatred. "You won't be alive long enough for the centuries that would take. I've gotten a reputation as a bit of a whore, actually, can you imagine? Anyone who's ever asked for me has had me." He leaned in with a datacable in hand, their frames flush and rubbing together, mouth pressed to Vortex's audial, voice dropping to a whisper. "I'd spread my legs for an _organic_ before I would open them for _you._ "

"That's not your choice to make," Vortex growled at him.

"Maybe while you had me it wasn't," Jazz said, plugging in and making quick work of the rotor's firewalls. "Oh, Screamer didn't give you much in the way of software, did he? Oh well, I guess you can only expect so much from Earth junk," he rapped his knuckles against the plating. "Mm, although, there was that _one_ time when Prowl fragged me in your berth, let's start there." 

When Vortex seized up in shock and rage against him, Jazz hacked into the vocal controls and froze them. "We're going to be quiet, and not interrupt," he said. "This could take a while, I've been working on this file for you for a _long_ time." He reached his hand back for Prowl, drawing his lover flush against his back and accepting the offered cable as he queued up the spliced-together file of every spike he'd ever taken while Prowl held and nuzzled him, affectionate and supportive in a way that Vortex couldn't comprehend. "So, here's the time in your berth..." 

After playing that memory out in loving detail over the sound of Vortex screaming in his processor, they showed him the first time with their new equipment after escaping, and then the file moved on to show Jazz's memory of every mech and femme that had ever spiked him, save one.

"Energon, love," Prowl murmured when the file finally came to a close. "I don't think he'll even comprehend what we're doing until he calms down a bit."

"Mm." Jazz cocked his head at the dazed-looking rotor and released the freeze on his vocal systems while pulling out a pair of cubes, handing one to Prowl. "He is teeking deliciously, isn't he?" he purred between sips.

"Far more than I dared imagine," Prowl shivered, sharing their first mouthful of energon with a kiss. "So long we've waited and planned. It is almost surreal to have him finally here."

When they had finished, Jazz subspaced the empty cubes and pulled one filled with jet fuel. "Seems a waste to pour any of this down your intake," he told the rotor, "But I want you to live long enough to play with." He reached up and grabbed Vortex's mouth in his claws and forced it open, taking the tube that Prowl handed him and shoving it down before pouring the fuel in.

It was only in that moment that Vortex realized his facemask was gone, but it was the least of his concerns as he choked on the rich fuel. Far richer than he'd had since awakening in this frame, and he struggled to swallow as it burned its way down his intake and sent a painful _surge_ of energy through his frame, like an overload without the build up and raw, rough pain instead of any kind of pleasure.

"Hurts, right?" Jazz hissed. "This isn't even _close_ to what you did to Prowl, not even close to what I'm going to do to you. I just need you to survive the first decaorn before I _really_ dig in."

Vortex just sort of stared at him for a long moment before his attention shifted to the Praxian behind him. "What did you do to my bonded?"

"The one who adored you, wanted to please you?" Prowl's field rippled with a sick pleasure. "I shredded him. Tore him from Jazz's frame and left him in tatters to be picked at by defrag cycles until there was nothing left."

"Ooh, and he _loved_ you, simpering little thing," Jazz trilled with dark joy. "He tried to stop me leaving, almost got me to turn around and go right back in, and he was _that close_ to winning. When he realized how far away I'd taken him..." Jazz pulled up the memory of the construct's final act, the attempt to kill him, and forced it into the rotor's processor. "He was going to kill us both, sacrifice himself in order to destroy me. He'd have given you _anything_."

Vortex actually made a choking sound, his visor whiting out in shock. Grief, actual, honest grief, rose up from his processor and spark, but only for a moment. Then rage, murderous on a level he'd never known before flashed through the rotor and snapped the tenuous grip he had on reality.

"I don't think he's going to shut up this time," Prowl observed after a solid breem of writhing and screaming.

Jazz nodded his agreement and set aside his memories of Radiance until the rotor had worn himself out enough to be something resembling sane again. Calmly, he unplugged from Vortex's chest and handed Prowl's cable back and pulled a torch from his subspace. "Let's see how long it takes to melt down a rotor blade."

"Given how long it took to rust, we'll be here a long time," Prowl purred with a psychotic gleam in his optics.

* * *

Vortex had long ago lost any sense of time. He wasn't even sure if the partial frame he was in was the one he'd been captured in. The professional part of his processors was quite impressed. The rest of him was mostly dazed. The loss of _his_ bonded, the murder of the only mecha he'd ever cared about, still tore at him.

Pain receded and he could focus through his cracked visor.

"Our creations," he mumbled, thinking of that last bit of his bonded that might still exist. "Where?"

The professional part of him screeched in objection, but he didn't pay it any heed.

He felt the flicker of surprise through the hands that were busy pulling an engraved blade out of his rotor pack and then Jazz walked back around in front of him. "You _care?_ " the mech asked, sounding shocked. 

"They were _ours_ ," Vortex mumbled, only half coherent from coding objections and spark ache.

"You'll find out," Jazz promised him, and the cable was plugging back into his data port. "Since you're feeling sentimental, I want to introduce you to someone." The image of a Praxian with dark charcoal plating and bright yellow highlights flooded his processor against his will. "This is Radiance." Dozens of images flashed by of the same mech, all of them showing him smiling, grinning, laughing, kissing, and then the voice was inside his head and the predatory presence of his bonded was next to him. ~He was our mate, our third.~ The images stopped on a frozen moment of the mech with his chest open, showing a bright, golden crystal chamber around a brilliantly pulsing spark. ~This is as close as I could come to knowing his spark, because _you_ couldn't let me go,~ Jazz hissed.

" _You_ shouldn't exist!" Vortex snarled, rage and emotional pain mingling into a potent cocktail in his field. "You murdered my bonded for his frame!"

"The construct never had a right to that frame," Prowl's voice was cold. "It was the construct, not the mech."

"He loved me," Vortex could only repeat.

"Which is why it was destroyed," Prowl replied calmly.

" _Stop calling him that!_ " Vortex shouted. 

" _THAT'S ALL IT WAS!_ " Jazz shrieked, and claws caught across Vortex's visor, shattering half of it. " _A coding adaptation so I could SURVIVE you and what you did to us!_ "

"He was _real!_ " Vortex snarled back. "He was the _real_ one. You're the thief. You murdered my mate, stole our creations away!"

" _YOU RAPED ME!_ " Jazz screamed, and a barrage of images, violent and glitched from distress slammed into his processor, moving by too rapidly for Vortex to even fully see what they were, just that each one shone with energon and _terror_ , and beyond the vivid, racing flashback Vortex felt himself slammed back. 

Claws tore at him and the dagger was sinking into his chest and then it all stopped very suddenly and Vortex dimly saw the shape of the Praxian pulling his enraged mate off.

"Love, not so fast," Prowl's voice was soothing, his field encompassing, his grip strong without hurting. "Don't kill him so fast."

Jazz hissed and snarled and tugged, but didn't try to break away, and very slowly calmed down until he was just x-venting heavily and shivering, and then he shook himself and resettled his armor, slipping back into his cool, controlled composition. "You're right," he said, voice flat. "That would be too generous for him." 

"Still crying over that?" Vortex sneered, latching onto the first moment of weakness he'd seen. "Those pretty little seals that tore so _nicely?_ " 

Jazz looked at him coldly. "While we wait, I'm going to show you more of our mate, and if I get bored with that, we'll just go back and relive the construct being shredded a few more times."

"The shock value's worn off, you pathetic Autobot," Vortex hissed at them. "You got me, and pretty good. I'll give you that. But you don't have anything now."

A grin spread over Jazz's face. "I have time, and weapons, and everything you taught me while I wait to bond with my Prowl." He took a deep, shuddering intake, engines purring as his visor flickered. "It's been _so long_ , what's another metacycle?"

Prowl embraced him from behind and nuzzled his love. "You know, the blocker is off. There is no reason to hold off on merging."

Jazz groaned, head falling onto Prowl's shoulder. "We're so close, love," he murmured. "I don't want to feel him in there with us, not when we're _so close_."

Prowl nodded and kissed Jazz's stubby horn. "Then we repay what he did to us and move on. We've waited so long."

Jazz nodded, turned, and claimed a deep kiss. "Come remember Radiance with me," he murmured, and drew his mate over to their once-nightmare, and pressed forward the best of nearly a millennia with their mate while they waited. 

* * *

Jazz got bored about halfway through the wait and returned to torturing the rotor's blades and Vortex was holding back a screech when it suddenly stopped and Jazz gave a quivering hum. He came around front and looked at him, an odd grin on his face. "Darling, I'd like you to meet your creations," he purred, holding his hand out towards the only entrance to the room.

"They're alive?" Vortex's scattered thoughts took a moment to organize a response. His optics locked onto the human blast door as it was pulled open.

"Very much so," Jazz said as the pair walked over, and Vortex recognized them immediately. Autobot frontliners, powerful warriors. They came to stand next to Jazz, arms crossed over their chests and identical frowns on their faces. "I'm very proud of them, their heritage notwithstanding," he continued, running his knuckles down the red one's arm as he looked up at them. "Prowl sired them too, filled me to _bursting_ over and over again, and they were the result."

" _Grounders!_ " Vortex looked somewhere between horrified and mortified. "You turned my sparklings into _grounders_."

Sunstreaker's engine snarled back as his optics brightened with anger.

"And Autobots," Vortex added a moment later, something less important to him but still a point. "You murdered my mate for his frame, stole my sparklings, grounded them and made them Autobots!" he shrieked in something resembling hysteria.

Sunstreaker shot Prowl a bewildered look.

"He considers the construct the real Jazz," the Praxian just shrugged.

"It was sentient, sort of," Jazz said with an identical shrug. "Mm, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, meet your spark sire." A grin split his face and he stepped close to the rotor, who snarled back at him. "Meet the reason you're alive. Although you wouldn't both be if he'd had his way. Do you know his first words to me after we found out the newspark had split?" Jazz turned back to them. "'An heir and a toy.'"

Twin engines snarled together. 

"So you," Jazz said to Vortex, "Can stop with that nonsense about stealing your sparklings. You would have torn them apart yourself. And there is _no piece_ of that _thing_ left alive in them, it was shredded before their protoforms began to develop and _this spark_ ," his hand went to his chest, "Is _mine._ They are _mine_ , and Prowl's, and yours, but they aren't your way to connect with _that thing._ "

"They were ours to do what we wanted with!" Vortex shrieked, struggling uselessly against his binds, trashing and twisting. 

Jazz picked up the end of the chain system that Vortex was tied up in and tossed it to Sideswipe, who caught it reflexively, his gaze fixed on the screaming, incoherent rotor, his expression a mix of horror, pity, disgust ... but mostly hate. Sunstreaker only had hate on his facial plates. "Just don't kill him," Jazz said, and slipped away to the far wall, drawing Prowl with him and pressing him back, taking a slow kiss that was given and returned eagerly and openly to the sound of a crash, then clashing metal.

"I believe our creations are suitably angry with him," Prowl purred when they finally parted.

Jazz listened to the clash of frames behind them and nodded, hand sliding down Prowl's body to wrap around his leg and pull up, pushing his hips forward into the open space. "I think so," he agreed with an answering purr, and hummed happily at the sounds. "They'll be busy for a while..." Fingers slipped into the junction between Prowl's legs and brushed suggestively over the cover that snapped open immediately for him with a low, needy groan.

"What's different about this one?" Prowl asked with a purring shiver. "It hasn't turned you on like it usually does to work someone over."

Jazz nipped at his mate, spike extending against Prowl's hip. "Haven't gotten started yet," he rumbled, taking a firm hold of Prowl's waist and lining himself up, pushing in. "Just warming up and playing with him, wait 'til I get to his spark." 

Any response Prowl might have had was lost to his moan of pleasure, a direct and familiar counterpoint to the cries of pain and snarls of denial going on across the room as their twins took out many of their frustrations once aimed at their carrier on the mech more directly responsible.

Jazz rocked, purring deeply to what he could hear and even almost feel going on in the center of the room, face pressed to Prowl's neck as he basked in the reality of finally, _finally_ having Vortex in their grasp. 

When he overloaded into his love, it was to an agonized, rattling scream from the rotor and when he turned to look, he saw Sunstreaker wrenching one of the heavy rotor blades hard enough for it to twist, and he grinned, panting. 

Sideswipe rose, having heard the cries from his creators, and turned with energon splattered on his front and dripping from his claws, the rotor's thighs mangled.

"They know how to _hurt_ a mech well," Prowl purred with deep approval as he focused on the scene. The pair hadn't had the lessons in torture that their creators had, but they'd clearly learned the art.

"Kaon crowds really dug this kinda thing," Sideswipe said, licking his claws off as Sunstreaker rumbled in agreement. 

"...Kaon ... crowds?" Vortex asked with a sharp whine of his flight engine when the yellow twin _yanked_ at the blade. 

"We were Gladiators," Sunstreaker said. "Grew up in youngling pits and made it to the top of the official Kaon arenas." 

"This isn't the first time we've met," Sideswipe added, as Vortex stared at him. 

"You've paid for our services in the berth a few times," Sunstreaker growled, adding more force to the rotor blade he was busy twisting into a knot.

"Granted you found us appealing when we were called the Bladed Brothers," Sideswipe added. "We had such a shiny finish you just couldn't stand not to mess with it."

"Took us _orns_ to get presentable again after you," Sunstreaker growled, full of frustrated hate. "Most mecha just wanted to spike us, to say they had. But not you. You had to go and make us _ugly_."

" _You!_ " Vortex screeched, and twisted madly. "I remember you! You--you--" He broke off into another shriek. 

"We _what?_ " Sideswipe snarled, grabbing him by the throat. "We weren't _timid_ enough for you? You lodged a complaint because I growled at you when you _hurt my brother_ and got us both _whipped._ "

"I'll have you both _smelted!_ " Vortex raged at him. 

Jazz couldn't quite stop the laugh that escaped after that and he pulled out of his mate, resettled his armor and walked over, smooth and calm. "You're never leaving this room," he said. "When the twins have had their fill, they'll give you back to me, and I'll show you just how much I've learned. You were an _excellent_ teacher." 

"As was Whiplash," Prowl added. "Though he only built and refined what you showed us. What I'm eager to show you is what we developed on our own."

Jazz hummed deeply and waited until Sunstreaker stopped mutilating the blade long enough for the rotor to stop screaming and stepped in next to the red twin, drawing a single claw under Vortex's chin. The rotor looked at him with optics that were deep red with fury and loathing. 

"Remember that strange bout of vandalism you had in Kaon?" Jazz purred. "Rotor blades across your gates? Finances vanishing? Your gardens poisoned? That was us." 

" _You?_ " Vortex roared, shaking as much from rage as pain.

"We weren't Autobots yet," Prowl chuckled. "We were actually the last of our glitched little family to join up. Smokescreen was first. He convinced the twins to join. Bluestreak even joined before us, and he was still a mechling at Praxus."

Sunstreaker snarled at him, a wordless sound of anger bred from distress.

"He wasn't family back then," Prowl soothed his irritable creation. "He hadn't even been created yet."

Sunstreaker settled and Jazz chuckled. "He's definitely family now," he promised the twins. "We wouldn't forget to include him." 

Vortex's gaze shifted sharply sideways and he latched onto the information inherent in the short exchange. "You find something young and pretty?" he sneered. "I'll find it when I'm free, and I _will_ be free. Megatron has to be _hurting_ your Prime for me, he'll be here any time to order my release. I'll find it and _hurt it,_ just wait," he hissed through his pain. 

"Keep telling yourself that," Prowl chuckled. "So far Megatron doesn't seem to have noticed you're missing."

"And our young and pretty can handle himself as well as we can," Sideswipe purred, his optics glittering with memories. "You have to be _competent_ to keep our attention more than one frag."

"He did," Sideswipe grunted as he began to precise work of folding a previously untouched rotor blade longwise. "You'd have better luck taking us out than him."

"You're _lying!_ " Vortex screeched, frame going rigid and blades trying to pull out of the abuse, disabled rotor pack rattling and whining against the sabotage. "I'm part of a gestalt, Megatron _wants_ me!" 

"Haven't heard anything," Jazz said coldly. "Apparently you're really not as special as you think." He leaned in, visor bright. "You're weren't anything special in berth, either, for that matter. Not at all what interfacing was cracked up to be."

" _My bonded_ enjoyed it," Vortex hissed back. "It was good." He screamed in pain as Sideswipe dug his claws into Vortex's hips and tore at them. 

"Four to one just in this room. You're worth slag in the berth," the red warrior corrected him. He glanced at Jazz. "You said we can have fun with him. Does that include letting the overgrown desk fan loose in the room to really play with?"

The visor brightened, optic ridges raised, and a smile crept across Jazz's face. "Whatcha think, Prowler?" he asked his mate as he databurst the twins the detonation codes for the bomb in the rotor's chest. "I'm down."

"Go ahead," Prowl nodded. "Just don't kill him. That's our pleasure."

The twins turned identical, savage grins on the rotor, who snarled back as he shook the chains, eager to have a chance to fight back. "So frightening," Sunstreaker sneered back. 

"Egg beater of doom," Sideswipe snickered. 

Jazz smirked, shook his head, and drew Prowl back with him to lean up against the wall, shoulders brushing and Prowl's wing tucked behind him as Vortex shook his way from the bindings and staggered up to his pedes. Even with the damage, and the pain, this mech was still strong, but Jazz could tell from the twins' circling paces that they weren't going to make the mistake of underestimating him. 

"If you get from the building, the comm scrambling wears off," Sideswipe told him. "You could probably get your gestalt here in a groon."

"Not that it'd help you any," Sunstreaker smirked, eager and reveling in giving a little personal payback to the mech who had done so much damage, directly and indirectly. "You wouldn't last a groon."

But it had been enough to give Vortex hope of getting out and he growled back at the pair, limping as he moved and settled and figured out how much strength his legs still had. 

"My credits're on the twins," Jazz whispered loudly, tilting his head towards Prowl.

"No one is going to take you up on it," Prowl chuckled, low and affectionate. "Unless the bet is whether they'll remember to leave him alive enough for us when they're done."

"I bet they will," Jazz said, settling in to watch as the twins began toying with their prey, making quick strike-and-retreat moves that so far were designed just to rattle and aggravate, a tactic that was working effectively. "Wanna take me up on _that?_ "

"Mmm, what is the wager?" Prowl nuzzled him. "Credits aren't that interesting to bet with."

"How 'bout I bet that I will turn in every report on time and without complaint for a vorn," Jazz purred. "Against you not being allowed to nag me for them for a vorn."

Prowl considered the conflict playing out before them, the way the twins were taunting and tormenting the grounded rotor trying to reach the door and fight them off. "Mmm, no. That bet is too rich too lose."

"Spoilsport," Jazz stuck his glossa out. "Three metacycles."

"What about the winner gets to spike our toy first?" Prowl counter-offered.

"You're on," Jazz said, turning his attention back out. "Hey!" he called, getting the twins' attention. "If you kill 'im I'm reassigning Mirage to galaxy perimeter!"

"And I'll override that order," Prowl called a counter as he carefully untangled himself from Jazz and stood. "Just pay attention to the fight," he added as he walked to the huge blast door and pushed it open, then stepped away.

Vortex sharpened on it like the sky-deprived flight frame he was and shoved past Sideswipe, sprinting towards the opening. The red twin allowed it but Sunstreaker was right there to cut him off and shove him back, giving his brother enough time to cut around to the side, and then stepped away, letting Vortex get another sprint in. 

Sideswipe raced to intersect, diving into a slide pede-first, slamming into Vortex's legs and toppling him over before pouncing on top of him with a deep growl and slamming him into the floor.

" _I'll kill you!_ " Vortex shrieked, landing a punch in the middle of his chest and sinking his claws in. Sideswipe grunted and Sunstreaker was there in an instant, grabbing the hand away and pinning it. 

"You are _such_ a spoilsport," Jazz told his mate, purring from the show. 

"I just gave him an incentive to think less and react more," Prowl purred as he snuggled in to enjoy the show of the two heavy frontliners playing keep-away with an ever-increasingly desperate Vortex and his bid for the door. "It's not like you would have really sent Mirage away. You want to live."

"Honey, we need to show a united front in front of the kids," Jazz chastised. 

"Hey!" Sideswipe called. "Would the peanut gallery like to keep it down?"

"Seriously," Sunstreaker said. "You're like an old married couple." 

Jazz and Prowl looked at each other, then back out at where Sideswipe was holding the twisting, snarling Vortex by the rotor blades while Sunstreaker danced around him, scoring blows between his attempts to block. "We _are_ an old married couple," Prowl said. 

"Objection!" Jazz said. "Old!"

"Pff," Sideswipe said. "You _are_ old!" 

"I am only 300 vorns older than you!" Jazz said, sitting upright until Prowl's purring strokes got him to relax back down.

"But we've been married for over seven thousand vorns, not counting the extended stasis," Prowl teased him with affectionate kisses. "Sideswipe's old too, he's just hasn't been married long enough to be an 'old married couple'."

"Yuck, you've infected him!" Sunstreaker managing a pouting grumble towards Jazz. "He never used to be so imprecise with language."

"I hadn't dealt with humans yet," Prowl pointed out smoothly. "Though mostly it annoys the rotor you're working over."

"I'll see you all flayed!" Vortex shrieked, struggling to pull out of the red twin's grip. Sideswipe smirked and let go, causing him to stumble forward from the sudden lack of resistance from behind, but he recovered quickly and focused in on the door. Both twins backed up to guard it, but they stayed far enough away to still give him a moment of hope. 

Vortex tried to transform, getting stuck halfway through the transition from the damage and reverted back with a screech as he tried to make a dash on his pedes, an attempt that was quickly cut off. 

"Cat 'n mouse," Jazz grinned. 

"They're very good at it," Prowl purred, all but radiating his pride in the pair as a neon sign. "It takes a significant level of intellect, thought, planning and skill to anticipate an enemy's movements so well and counter them. It's a pleasure to watch."

Vortex hissed at him and his rotors rattled aggressively--or tried to, they managed to whine and click before the rotor cringed. "Kill me or let me go," he snarled. 

The twins glanced at each other, and there were volumes exchanged in that single moment. They spread apart and Sunstreaker held his hand out towards the door while Sideswipe glanced at his seated creators and flicked his optic in a wink. 

The rotor sprinted towards it and was through the door and disappeared before the twins transformed and raced off. They heard the squeal of tires and screeches outside, clash of armor, and it was a full five kliks before Vortex was dragged back in, kicking and screaming. 

"You lied, _you lied!_ " Vortex shouted. 

"You _really_ thought we were stupid enough to leave your comms in?" Jazz said, unfazed. "That was one of the first useful things you taught us." 

"We will show you exactly how dedicated we were as students," Prowl added, a horrible promise in his voice. "We watched, felt and we _learned_. We are better at torture than you are, and the students must show their teacher that they have learned all they can from him."

"You're weird when you get all talky," Sunstreaker grumbled as he slammed a fist squarely into Vortex's chest to send him to the ground.

Jazz chuckled and nuzzled his mate fondly. "He used to be much more 'talky,'" he said. "Shoulda heard him in berth the first few millennia ... oh, you remember how you took his vocalizer, don't you, 'Texy? Gave him one from a turbo-hound?" 

The twins gave Jazz a startled look, then turned vicious snarls back on their spark sire. 

"You _what?_ " Sunstreaker hissed, grabbing Vortex by sinking into his chest plates and shaking him.

"Wasn't going to waste credits on a real one," the rotor spat back despite the pain and the slowly growing realization that Autobots or not, he was going to deactivate here, at their hands and for their pleasure.

"You sick, _twisted_ mess of scrap," Sunstreaker snarled. 

"He is, but it's off topic," Jazz said. "Prowl had such a _gorgeous_ voice, beautiful tenor, and then it was gone, and I didn't hear him speak for more than a vorn. And then once I did oh _Primus_ was it amazing..." His hand slipped between his legs and pressed down at his valve cover. "He'd talk to me for so long and I overloaded harder from his _voice_ than I ever did in that freak's grasp," he finished cheerfully. "He could talk endlessly." 

"That," Sideswipe snickered, "Is disgusting." 

"Damn, I was going for sweet," Jazz hummed, head against Prowl's shoulder as his mate's hands slid down his flanks to join his at the interface covers. Prowl's spike was hard against Jazz's backstrut as Prowl took a sensor horn into his mouth to lavish it with his glossa.

"Sometimes he'd overload just from my voice, early on," Prowl added with a low rumble of fond memories. "You have no idea the kind of ego boost that is, to have your mate writhe and scream in bliss without even touching him. It was so intense."

Vortex flew into another mindless rage, this time his goal was to anger the twins into deactivating him before their elders got back to the systematic pain.

But they had grown, in the centuries since leaving the arenas, no longer able to be pushed into that kind of blind killing frenzy from something as weak and unthreatening as the rotor between them. If anything, their fields teeked amused as they toyed and batted at him.

When Vortex was blind with his incensed, humiliated rage, they tossed him back over to the chains and systematically strung him back up, loose enough that he was still able to writhe and toss on the ground, screaming at them to kill him. 

The twins backed away, looking at their creators. "I think we broke him," Sideswipe said, smirking at the way Jazz had his fingers pressed into his valve alongside Prowl's.

"Excellent," Prowl praised the pair without breaking his efforts to blind Jazz with bliss from just his fingers. "You have grown up so much. It's a joy to watch you play."

"Can we watch you play?" Sunstreaker asked, settling down on the ground near them, drawing Sideswipe down with him. 

"Mmhmm," Jazz hummed, arching back. "In just ... in just ... mm, Prowl..." 

The twins rolled their optics in unison, well-used to the libido of their creators. 

"Yes," Prowl answered his creations.

In the distance, Vortex gradually stilled and stared, fixated, at the fingers. "That was _mine,_ " he hissed. "Before it was ever yours. I had him _first._ Remember how nicely he screamed?"

"Yes, I remember the screams," Prowl said softly, his voice even and completely at odds with the movements of his fingers into the gasping, writhing mech pressed against his chest. "This valve was never yours. He screams for me now, in pleasure, from anything I do to him. I make sure to please him with every touch."

"He overloaded on _me_ first," Vortex snarled. 

"Damn, mech, are you really that stupid?" Sideswipe asked, peering at him. "He'd overload on a _stick_ if he had to." 

Jazz managed a whine in protest, but not much more, and Sunstreaker snickered.

"It isn't the overload," Sideswipe continued. "That's not even important. It's how much he loves Prowl." 

"And how much I love him," Prowl whispered, mostly for his mate to hear and feel the full honesty of it across their fields.

Jazz screamed and seized and Vortex's voice joined in with him, rage against joy, hate against love. 

When it was over, when fingers were cleaned and plating resettled, Jazz rose up to his pedes and stalked forward. "Are you ready to play?" he asked coldly.

Barely a step behind him Prowl shivered in anticipation. For the first time the twins saw their creators as something very close to the monsters they had become in the arenas. This Jazz and Prowl held no morals, no reservations, there was _nothing_ in them that was capable of regret in the violence they were about to commit.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe shared a glance and accepted that maybe they weren't so different from the mechs that had created them. They were all monsters inside. All of them at peace with that truth and that the respectable mecha that most knew were no more than masks, a thin veneer.

~I guess ... they really do get it, being a monster inside,~ Sunstreaker murmured, struck between awe and a calming sense of being accepted by someone who _understood_. 

~They do,~ Sideswipe whispered, watching the flawless transformation as Jazz drew a dark whip from his subspace and gave it a testing blow through the air. ~Radiance wasn't, Mirage isn't. We got lucky, Sunny, we got _so_ lucky, that we have him. I wonder how they'd be if they still had their balance.~

~I don't know. We kinda have one and we're still fragged beyond recognition inside,~ Sunstreaker pointed out. ~The veneer might be thicker, harder to shed. I don't think anything can change what we all _are_.~ He leaned against his twin. ~Yeah, we're so lucky Mirage is ours. It feels good to have him nearby. You think that's what they had with Radiance? Feeling better just to have him in the same room, just to know that he existed and loved them despite knowing them.~

~To hear them talk about him .... it was all of that and more.~

"Let's see," Jazz purred, drawing the twins' attention back outward, and struck, _hard_ , across the open, sparking wounds in the rotor's abdomen where Sunstreaker had ripped the plating. The inlaid diamond shards caught on the fine sensor wires and pulled out as Jazz drew back and Vortex screamed. "Is that _it?_ " Jazz hissed, with another crack of the whip. "You're pathetic, everything you dished out and you can't take it without crying like a sparkling?" The third hit ripped away protoform and the strength behind it left scratches in the armor. 

~You know, we've never actually asked to watch them at work,~ Sunstreaker suddenly realized. ~Interrogation has been Jazz's job since before Praxus fell.~

Sideswipe shivered. ~We saw more of this in Prowl than Jazz. At least when Jazz grins he doesn't look...~

~Demented?~ Sunstreaker supplied, optics on his frame sire, watching his expression. 

~...Yeah.~

Jazz worked at the same spot on the rotor's abdomen until he couldn't see anything through the running energon, and his spark was pulsing rapidly in his chest long before that point. Energon scent and someone under his claws, it had been _so_ long, the Prime steadfastly refused to loose Jazz on prisoners, and _this_ mech more than anything was going to get him revved. 

That his mate was behind him, field _alive_ with arousal and excitement and vicious glee that few subjects elicited only encouraged Jazz's state.

The whip wrapped around Vortex's neck and with a twist of Jazz's wrist, tightened and caught, and when he pulled, he lifted Vortex towards him, crushing the cables together. Vortex choked and Jazz grabbed the weapon to yank harder, slicing his own hand open but not even flinching. "So what kinds of surprises did Shockwave install in your upgrades?" he purred, and his hand went down, tearing at the panel where a spike should have been and immediately feeling the housing beneath his fingers. "Excellent, I was actually worried you wouldn't have anything down here. Rape anyone with this one yet?"

Vortex tried to answer and couldn't. He could only choke and sputter through the ruined vocalizer.

"Extend it," Prowl ordered, though which of them it was directed at could be debated.

Jazz's grin was savage as he sank his claws into the housing and twisted, tearing and ruining the systems as two reached in, dug into the hidden tip, pierced straight through, and then _pulled._

Vortex's shriek was shrill, agonized as shudders of revulsion worked through his frame from the forced extension that irreparably damaged the equipment. It would never retract again. 

Jazz moaned long and low at seeing it, not as modified and intimidating as the model he'd known so well but still sharpened and bladed, dark red. "So many nights," he whispered, staring. "So many nights you _ripped me open._ " He dug his claws in harder and Vortex tried to pull away, then whined as it stretched his spike further and froze. "Prowl," Jazz said, and his tone was _ice_ as he reached back for his mate's hand and slipped a dagger into his fingers.

Prowl caught a kiss from Jazz before sliding his claws along the extended length. "I can't even begin to do all that you did to mine, but I'll give you a taste of it," he rumbled over Vortex's screams and let himself sink fully into the hate he had left. Even here he knew the emotions were a bare shadow of what they had been before Prime's healing merges and the knowledge that had come with them, so now he acted not for himself, but for his mate. 

Jazz needed this in the same way Prowl once had, but Prowl wasn't about to lie and say he wasn't enjoying it, either. It was still one of the most satisfying things he'd ever experienced. 

With a smooth twisting of his wrist, Prowl sliced off a single hooked blade, digging in a bit to take it out along the attachment point where the sensor wires were gathered.

Jazz purred, visor bright and fixed, while his free hand reached back to stroke Prowl's still-extended spike as he watched. 

"Dirty--nothing-- _freak!_ " Vortex screeched, only to have the sound choke out when the next flick sliced out another bladed point.

"You are still less than I am," Prowl purred as he methodically worked along the length until it was smooth. "That's a start," he smiled and nuzzled his mate to Vortex's sobs. "I really expected him to be stronger than this. To think we feared him for so long."

"He liked to pick on weaker mecha," Jazz hummed as he watched with purring engines. "Credits kept him safe. Don't even have Megs ta protect ya here, do ya, 'Tex?" he taunted, admiring his mate's precise work. 

Vortex's vocalizer spat broken glyphs that were too heavily cut with static to be understood. Not that anyone would have cared even if they could.

Prowl's claws came out with tiny transformation sequences and began to make jagged spirals around the spike, digging in just deep enough to make him bleed at first. The second pass went deeper, and the third ran a counter-pattern that was deeper still.

The metal gave easily, this spike made with only the barest necessary quality of material, and Jazz chuckled deeply, his intakes speeding up as Vortex's field began to teek more and more desperate. "If I could," he whispered as Prowl carved, working glyphs into the length, "I'd devote a century for every _nanoklik_ of pain you caused my love. You're lucky I'm impatient." 

"But since I'm here, he has a reward waiting for him at the end," Prowl purred and leaned in. "My spark. We'll finally merge, finally get to bond, when you are out of the way," he hissed the aggravation that had caused them over their long lives and dug his claw in deep to pull along the full length of the spike. "Torch."

Against the far wall, two pairs of optics went wide and two sets of vents stalled out, but the pair said nothing. Jazz's own vents hitched and he handed the tool over, drinking in the fear that flooded the rotor's field and the garbled, nonsense pleas that spat from his vocalizer. 

Prowl lit it and adjusted it to just over the melting temperature of the spike's material before flicking it across Vortex's gaze. "Remember how hot it made you when our positions were reversed? How many times you overloaded just melting my hands down to the wrist, one finger at a time? I'll get to those, eventually, but first the cause of so much pain and so much of your effort to dominate." He purred deeply and lowered the torch to Vortex's mangled spike, just ghosting over the length at first.

The full-frame, wracking spasms were so severe that Vortex actually tore the tip of his spike through Jazz's claws and the younger of the tormenters brought his knife spinning into his fingers, grabbed the rotor's hip, and slammed the weapon down through the length. It impaled Vortex's spike into his own hip and his garbled screams were loud enough to hurt when Prowl made another pass, wild optics behind the visor rolled wildly and found the twins, staring pleadingly at them. "I--r, s'r, k--pl's!" was the broken string of glyphs that tore out. 

The twins just stared, unmoving, and Vortex twisted and shook.

"We've had entirely too long to plan this," Prowl purred, his optics and field expressing the full madness that he'd given himself over to for this. Slowly, drop by drop, Vortex's spike's skin melted away, pooling on his pelvis and hardening there, soldering the spike down and leaving the sturdier core exposed. Jazz wrenched his knife out so the next stage wouldn't harm it, and Prowl upped the intensity of the flame and went to work on that, moving from the tip to the housing, then deep inside it, as deep as the flame would reach.

When he worked, slowly and methodically, Jazz slipped away to Vortex's head and moved into a straddle above him, grabbing his helm in his claws and yanking up, pushing his spike against the rotor's lips. Vortex tried to turn his head away but Jazz just pulled him back and then forced his knife in and twisted it sideways, using the blade to keep his jaw open. 

"I learned this from you, you know," he spat over the rotor's keens. "This response to another creature's pain, it hardwired itself in as I adapted to you. You never expected it to be turned on you did you? You never anticipated that your two best students might just hate you for the lessons you so diligently gave."

Vortex couldn't have responded even if he'd wanted to. His vocalizer, what was left of it, was glitching, the blade lodging his mouth open and the blinding pain from between his legs all meant he was largely lost to reality.

Jazz shoved in with a low moan, forcing down the intake that had never been violated like this, voluntarily or no, and gasped at the intense, rippling tightness that tried to force him back out. "Frag. _You,_ " Jazz groaned, shaking from the pain that was flooding from their once-tormenter. " _Prowl._ Oh, Prowl, don't stop!"

"Not until they're nothing left. Then his hands, rotors, and all the other parts he melted off me," Prowl promised with a psychotic giggle.

Jazz snarled through a grin and pushed, losing himself to the sensation and the waves of agony.

When he finally came out of the haze of overloading, more times than he'd kept track of as his mate had methodically melted away the rotor's frame, Jazz slumped down, exhausted, and first glanced over to where he'd last seen the twins. 

They were gone, not unexpectedly so--Optimus certainly couldn't spare them as well and they'd seen what they'd needed--leaving him and his mate alone with the rotor. "Think I needta recharge," he murmured happily, slumping against Prowl.

"Then recharge with me, my love," Prowl helped arrange them near their prey on a mat. It wasn't a great berth, but it was softer than the cement floor and Prowl was happy to hold Jazz in his arms again.

* * *

Jazz purred and stretched when he booted, several decaorns after they'd melted Vortex's spike, though he hadn't been keeping good track of the time throughout the methodical process of torturing every span of Vortex's frame. Part of him was amazed that the rotor was still alive, more of him was thrilled he'd made it this long. 

"Think he's ever had his valve touched?" he rumbled to his mate when he was fully online.

"I very much doubt it, unless it was by Megatron to put him in his place," Prowl nuzzled in reply.

"'Texy," Jazz sing-songed, rising smoothly to his pedes and gliding over to the wrecked frame. He looked worse than Prowl had after being melted, now, and Jazz suspected he had long ago been stripped of his sanity. He dropped down into a crouch on the chest, grinding his pede into a wound over the spark chamber. "Ever been well and truly fragged?" 

Vortex whimpered. 

It made Jazz shiver, hard, and he pulled something out of his subspace that the rotor's optics immediately locked onto. The bright shine of chrome, sculpted metal, and a mimic of the spike the rotor had used to break Jazz's seals and torment the pair. "Since you liked it so much," he explained cheerfully. 

Vortex whimpered, dazed and beyond any ability to be fully coherent anymore.

"It's a pity we don't have access to a repair bot to fix him up," Prowl lamented even as he assisted Jazz in arranging the odd straps that would hold the spike over where his real one was and plugging it into several data and interface ports. "But it was very nice of Wheeljack to make this for us. We really must give him something in return."

Jazz hummed and drew his mate into a kiss. "We could go after Shockwave after this," he said. "No one'll miss _that_ glitch except Megatron." 

"Definitely," Prowl purred as he pressed against his mate's back, anticipation thick in his field. "Shockwave even qualifies as a solid military target. Without him Cybertron would fall into our hands quite rapidly."

"And once we're bonded we'll be able to get into Darkmount," Jazz said with a grin as all the strategic possibilities of two of the most powerful Autobots being able to evade any comm-detection system began to trickle through his processor. He knelt down in between Vortex's disabled legs and pushed them open, easily tearing the valve cover away and pressing claws at it. "Ooh, someone's had you," he purred. "Was it Megatron? Was it _Onslaught?_ Were you on your hands and knees?"

"I'm sure it was Megatron that took this glitch to put him in his place and all that," Prowl chuckled. "You know how Decepticons like to use interfacing to display dominance."

"Intimately," Jazz purred. "And they still manage to completely miss the meaning of it. Mm," he hummed thoughtfully as he lined the spike up with the tight-looking, barely used valve. "I'm sorry you don't have seals for me to break, but just knowing you've had that humiliation makes me feel better, darling bonded." He sank his claws into the hips, getting a shocked screech of protest, and then _pushed._

The spike needed a good amount of force behind it to move forward and Jazz gave a shuddering moan as the hardlines conducted the mock sensory data directly into his sensor net. He stilled there, panting heavily as Vortex shrieked. " _Primus,_ " he managed, then yanked back out, and Vortex screamed, optics going white. 

Energon spilled out behind the spike and Jazz laughed as he started to drive at a steady pace.

"Primus, that much force, and he's at least twice the size you were back then," Prowl's optics went wide as his engine growled. "Maybe I can snatch Hook to patch him up a few times."

"You think ... that 'Con hack ... wouldn't rat us out?" Jazz panted between thrusts. " _Ohh_ so good, not gonna last long."

"Oh, he would in a sparkbeat," Prowl continued to move with his mate while Vortex, or what remained of him, howled and screeched in wordless agony. "But no comm and given a choice of being the next toy or fixing this one, I think he'd be a good survivalist and fix this one."

Jazz purred deeply, head back against Prowl's shoulder. "Love you," he moaned, starting to move past the ability to think and strategize. "Have you soon, don't wanna--don't wanna make it lo- _ah_ -onger!"

"Then we don't," Prowl trembled against his back, riding with the bliss and energy surging from Jazz's frame. He held there, pressed close enough to feel every quiver. "This is for you now, my love. When you are ready to end it, we end it. I've had my revenge on him."

Jazz managed to nod as he hunched forward, gripping hard enough to rend metal, and it took less than a dozen more thrusts before he screamed out and seized in an intense overload that rippled static over and through his frame, jumping to Prowl, even pulling Vortex up into his grip as the rotor thrashed uselessly. "See--how-- _you_ \--like it!" Jazz moaned, and then collapsed back when the charge finally faded. "You ... wanna turn?" he asked, looking up at his mate. 

"Very much," Prowl trembled in anticipation as they swapped the harness setup. "He's so close. So very close." With a manic grin he drove forward, laying over the mangled frame as he pounded into it. Moans and keens of bliss mingled with Vortex's screams and static-heavy cries.

"Soon," Jazz moaned from behind him, hands wandering his mate's frame, arching against his back. "A-after this, Prowl, lover, love, I want you after this."

"You have me .... anytime ... any ... anywhere," Prowl groaned at the intensity of the feedback. "Haven't felt anything like this ... since ... that microbot .... what a-- _ohhh_ \--frag that was."

Jazz's engines whined in sharp agreement as he rocked from the force of Prowl's motions, their fields entangled and bleeding together, one in arousal. "Your--your _spark_ ," Jazz gasped, and almost sobbed when he realized that he was ready. 

He was _ready._

And suddenly the need for Prowl to overload so they could finish the kill became blinding and Jazz pulsed arousal back to him through their fields. " _Prowl,_ " he begged, and it hurt so much to be this far away from his mate he could suddenly _taste_ it.

Prowl's response was a hurried, utterly joyful series of thrusts and a roar as he stopped holding back and focused everything on overloading as rapidly as possible.

Jazz keened with him, shuddering and shaking through the sensations, crying out half-designations and glyphs as the current overwhelmed his processor before they collapsed, slumped over the rotor's quivering frame.

Prowl lay there, trembling as he cooled. "Still want me before we finish him?"

In answer, Jazz grabbed him and twisted, unplugging the spike set-up with hands that moved so fast he could barely keep up with them and climbed on top of Vortex, on his hands and knees, pulling Prowl in behind him. He handed a cable back, took Prowl's, and his valve was bared for his lover as he looked down into Vortex's wild optics. "Soon," he crooned. "After he spills in me for you to see, your spark is _mine._ "

Prowl moaned at the promise and hurriedly plugged in, reveling in the intimacy of the hardline for only a few moments. Then he was against his mate's back, trusting into that incredible slick heat that nothing else could compare to. It wasn't as tight as some, but it knew him, had been chosen and crafted for him, and it was part of the mech he loved with all his spark.

"Ohh, love," Prowl moaned, turning his voice onto autopilot so Jazz would hear it no matter how distracted he might become. It didn't matter if he made sense, so long as he continued to talk and thrust and build up the charge inside their frames to that glorious peak that was mutual overload.

Jazz looked right into Vortex's optics as he gripped the chest for leverage and saw pain, fear, despair, emotions that were echoed into the field that pushed against him and through the wide-open bond. Jazz drank it all in as his hips pushed up and back, valve rippling around his lover in the most intricate patterns he knew. 

He began to pull at the chest plates, and almost to his surprise, they opened willingly beneath him, dark orange light shining up. Jazz snarled down and brought his claws striking across the rotor's face, completely shattering the visor and pulling what remained of the melted mouth completely off. Agony pummeled him through the bond and he pushed his arousal back, and the anticipation, and the _joy_ of knowing how close he was to being free.

Prowl groaned above him, intent on his last assigned duty, to spill his fluids deep into Jazz's valve. His voice continued to mumble, laced with static cracks, but glyphs of adoration, praise, pleasure, desire and love flowed freely until the pleasure was too much and his vocalizer could only spit white noise.

It rebooted, Jazz keened, and he screamed his lover's designation, the energy roaring through them both as he pumped thick, gooey, energy-rich transfluid into him, spreading the charge into the deepest recesses.

Jazz's vocalizer shorted as his head tossed back, his spike extending with the force of the overload as it rushed through him. His hands slammed into the rotor's chest and the flight engine gave a terrified squeal of broken pieces when he gripped the crystal in battle-strength claws and _cracked_ it open. 

They moved up as one, and when Jazz pushed his spike into the light, their scream was completely unified. 

It had never felt so good. It had never been so personal. Jazz's spark lunged in his chest, recognizing the spark energy dancing into his frame from the contact and instinctively seeking to complete the merge they were in entirely the wrong position to manage.

"Ohhh, babe," Prowl gasped through the blinding pleasure. "I could live with this being the last one we take."

Jazz managed a nod as he thrust forward. Vortex had barely any life or will left in him, he could feel that through so many different sources, and it was hard to think straight with the dizzying reality that they were finally _here_ , a place he'd once given up on ever reaching. Terror spiked beneath him, _want_ and _love_ from behind, and the mix was intoxicating in its pleasure. 

When the spark began to gutter Jazz grabbed Vortex's helm and yanked back so he could meet the optics behind the smashed visor one more time before life fled from the frame. He stared into them, remembering everything Vortex had done to them, cost them. Engine growling, frame steaming from the heat, he _looked_. "Goodbye, Vortex," he said, then as overload started to shake through them, tossed his head back and screamed, " _Prowl!_ " 

His mate gripped him, grounded him, as the overload tore through him in the same moment that his spark was torn open as the physical bond shattered with the explosive end to one side of it.

Prowl sobbed against Jazz's back, sounds of pleasure, relief, disbelief, joy and the crushing reality that from this moment on, whatever they made of themselves was on them. Vengeance complete, their score settled and their long-held goal complete, they were on their own in a way neither had experienced before.

It was a tiny bit terrifying.

Jazz shook from the intensity coming from his mate and reached blindly for him, then felt a _pull_ in the center of his spark as the energy tried to follow the same downward gutter as Vortex's had taken. "Prowl," he gasped, desperate, terrified, suddenly afraid that he wasn't strong enough to fight the break and he knew he _needed_ his mate. 

He hardly noticed the graying, energon-soaked frame as he collapsed sideways and keened, chest splitting and iris spiraling open as he somehow managed to twist onto his back. 

It _hurt_ to fight. 

"Here, always here," Prowl didn't even think as his chest plates parted and his spark chamber came forward and opened. He simply pressed his chamber to his mate's. They would live or they would die in this moment, together as one. Bonded and alive or bonded and to the Well or oblivion.

~Stay with me.~ Prowl's awareness called to Jazz across their joining sparks. ~United, no pain can touch us.~

Jazz _surged_ forward and the corneas collided so fast it hurt, arms wrapping around Prowl and pulling him completely flush. He held there, frozen, as his spark shuddered against Prowl's and the pull slowly lessened, the sheer cliff behind it grew further away, and the blackness beyond receded. When it was just a mild ache in his memory, Jazz suddenly opened his awareness forward, shining and bright and free, and found the pale blue, almost white presence waiting for him. 

His spark quivered and danced, shy and excited and eager and younger than it had any right to feel, darting through caressing tendrils, arching against each stroke and circling back for more. ~You,~ he whispered in awe, meeting the presence that had been so close since the moment he'd come into being, and so _far_ at the same time. Finally here, finally _touch._

~Us,~ Prowl replied, full of joy, wonder, awe and gratitude, but first and most, love for the spark that was finally able to touch his own. ~I am yours, my love. Please have me.~

~Always yours, always mine, always ours,~ Jazz's very spark answered, and he managed to calm the racing energy down to a smooth flow that wrapped around the other light, touching the scars that marred the surface and finding only beauty in them. He could feel power beneath the awareness, strength that was content to stay settled, and he knew that strength would come whenever he called. ~Serve me,~ he whispered, a request and an offer all at once. 

~Always,~ Prowl's very spark surged with joy at the prospect. He laid himself at his master's pedes in the small space between their spark cores and knew only joy, love and contentment in the act of pure, absolute submission to one he adored.

Jazz circled and purred, drawing flush with a blinding flare of light as he basked in being _one_ , then spun and danced and laughed and pulled Prowl to come with him, baring the very center of his spark, and opened himself up for the bond that he _ached_ to form. Prowl danced willingly with him, just as joyful, just as eager to offer himself.

At his core Prowl was still a calm, logical, ordered being that reveled in the predictable, yet also there was a full understanding that he was not complete. He needed the chaos that Jazz embodied to balance the order that could suffocate, just as the chaos that was Jazz needed the order Prowl provided to keep from flying apart.

They both knew and felt the absence of their third, and it still somehow did not detract in the least of the perfection that was their union.

Radiance wouldn't have wanted it to. 

Two sparks circled and spun, one tumbling and full of bright laughter, the other more settled but no less joyful, faster and faster until there was no space left between, no part of one that was not completely part of the other, and the merge culminated in a blinding surge of pure light that exploded out with the crack and strength of a new star, a spasming, rippling overload beyond wires and cables and frames. They soared together, exhilarated and united, and it was only when forced by the necessity of their frames that they parted. 

They left each other with loving caresses, still exploring this new union until the last tendrils separated and their sparks nestled safely back inside their crystals, and by the time their chests closed, they were deep in peaceful, needed recharge. 

And they were no longer alone.


	52. Bonded

Before Jazz was even fully booted his awareness surged forward through the bond. Having it wasn't a new feeling for him, that open spot in the center of his spark that attached him to another, but having a bond to someone who didn't completely horrify him was new. 

And, it was nice. Oh _Primus_ was it ever nice to feel Prowl there, no hardlines required, no physical connection that another could weaken. It felt a little terrifying, actually, and reckless, to press this close to Prowl without the hardline. That had _always_ been safety and this was like... this was like...

Like walking a tightrope without a safety net for the first time, Jazz decided. Exhilarating, thrilling, and like something was missing but when he calmed down and focused, everything was good. _Better._ Prowl was calm, and he was steady, the opposite of Jazz's recklessness. That felt _good._

Before his mate was even fully booted, in the stages when only the AI was really aware of everything, Jazz pressed a fond kiss for his mate--his _bonded_ \--to come into awareness to. As soon as he felt Prowl behind the warm mouth, Jazz unlocked his chest armor. ~Again?~ he asked, almost delirious in his giddy joy.

~Yes. Please,~ Prowl moaned, trembling with desire so intense it nearly knocked him out. But Jazz was there to take some of the emotional intensity from him, to give him an outlet that wasn't shunting it away, and Prowl gratefully took it, leaning on that strength as his armor folded out of the way and his chamber moved forward as it opened. ~Wanted this for so long.~

~Love,~ Jazz whispered with a shudder, pressing up, out, against, _into._ The merge completed quickly and they took a moment to adjust to each other, then Jazz swirled around his mate, caressing. ~Show me merging with Radiance?~

Immediately memories queued up. The processor POV, which Jazz knew well, was now overlaid by spark memories, something that brought entirely new dimensions of information and sensation to the moment.

It pulled an aching, longing trill from his spark, but there was celebration there, too, and the joy of touching the spark that had touched Radiance was stronger than any of it. For as relatively little as they had merged over their centuries together, Prowl's spark had known their lost third well, and he gladly showed his bonded everything he had known. 

Warm, golden light that poured itself wholly into anything it had cared about flooding into Prowl, sharing the life it had known, eager to start their life together, seeing and accepting everything that his lover was without hesitation or judgment. 

~He's beautiful,~ Jazz whispered over the memories as he watched the sparks growing closer with familiarity. _Felt_ the frequency and pitch that had been Radiance.

~Yes, he was,~ Prowl hummed in agreement. He was enjoying sharing these memories as much as Jazz reveled in finally experiencing them. ~He is our third. He will always be our third.~ 

~He should have been a sire,~ Jazz lamented, but he was starting to shiver from the memories and images, _pleasure-joy-bliss-us_ flooding him. He tumbled and spun, unable to hold still, and when the last memory finished, rushed forward to stroke the soft aching in Prowl's spark, as he felt that energy and life do the same for him. ~Thank you,~ he moaned, and shuddered into an overload that they fell into at the same moment and with the same sense of welcome. One of the first of many, many to come. 

* * *

Prowl roused to the rather incessant prodding of his tac-net's AI. It was unusual enough that he was more disturbed than irritated. The entity was more interactive and forward than ever anticipated, but it was still an AI. It didn't have a sense of _self_ or the ability to have emotions. Yet Prowl picked up little things on occasion, and right now he'd describe the program as agitated.

Messages were queued up, in order of priority, then time within the priority. He'd been roused by a top-priority message from Prime and he immediately opened it. Even as he accepted and processed the order to return immediately with Vortex, with a note that Skyfire was already there for them, he noted that there were three previous messages from Prime in the past five and a half joors with increasing priority levels.

The Decepticon situation had escalated over the last two local days.

"Did you get Prime's message?" Prowl asked as he powered on his optics to look at his mate.

"Getting it now," Jazz murmured a little blearily, pulled up from the recharge cycle sooner than had been anticipated by the rousing in his mate. He snuggled though the bond and his frame, then when he was finished, glanced sideways at the dull, grayed mess of a rotor frame. "Er, _well_ ... s'pose there's no harm takin' that back. Not gonna do Megs much good," he added with a grin.

"It is proof of deactivation," Prowl shrugged and stood rather reluctantly. "Proof we are no longer holding him."

"Do we hafta?" Jazz pouted at his mate from where he was still spread out on the floor. Prowl gave him a look, the one with a single optic ridge raised and his head tilted just _so_ and Jazz huffed out air, getting up to his pedes. "Honeymoon's over, back to work," he said, rolling his optics. 

"At least we didn't have to finish too soon because of this," Prowl said and claimed a soft, sweet kiss. His spark pulsed with the bond now there, making him giddy whenever he wasn't paying strict attention to his self-control. "But first," he held out a cube of jet high-grade. "I want my Praxian back. Or at least his chevron." He brushed his thumb over the spot where their bonded glyph was hidden.

"Aw, Prowler," Jazz grinned, taking the cube and kissing back. They'd long ago saved up enough to keep Vortex alive for several metacycles, and now the excess could go to better uses. Now that they had honest-to-Primus _excess_ being generated on Earth, there wasn't even a twinge of guilt about it.

Doorwings folded and shifted, flaring out, as the chevron grew back into place, their triad tattoo proudly on display. "Sensor horns are staying," Jazz informed his mate seriously when he was done shifting, heading over to Vortex and pulling down the chain systems, wrapping a loop around the frame to drag it with.

"I do like them," Prowl fell into step next to his mate and leaned in to kiss one. "I'm thinking drop him as we come in for a landing right in front of Megatron."

They made their way outside, where Skyfire was standing several long paces away, shifting uneasily, and he tensed noticeably when he saw them. 

"Hey Skyfire, pal!" Jazz greeted cheerfully, and the shuttle relaxed when he realized it really was Jazz.

"Hello," he said, voice strained and trying not to look at the thing they were dragging behind them. "It's been a while, you're missing out on human cultural evolution. Blaster wanted me to tell you the music got better."

"Better, huh?" Jazz grinned as he hefted Vortex up. Skyfire transformed and Prowl helped him pull the rotor on board before they climbed in together and went to the front. "Got any samples?" 

"Sure!" Skyfire said just as cheerfully and began to play a selection of songs for the flight back. _Anything_ to help him not think about what was in his hold and their condition. The grayed corpse was the first he'd seen up close, and the amount of energon on the SIC and TIC was ... he'd seen the twins come back from battle covered in much less. He was relieved that they didn't try to talk to him. It made it easier to focus on his instruments and negotiating a political airspace landscape that had changed since his last visit when he'd dropped off three living mechs. 

"Open your bay door so I can drop this between the lines," Prowl instructed calmly when they were close as he moved for the first time since he'd settled in for the flight.

Skyfire complied, angling to fly over the still-neutral ground between the gathered armies, relieved to see that no fighting had yet broken out. "All right, Prowl, 96 nanokliks to your drop zone," he instructed, as Jazz peered out the front windows and whistled. 

"Everyone's out there, so no pressure!" the saboteur called back to his mate. 

Prowl just pulsed pleased calm certainty over the bond, then threw Vortex's remains, chains and all, in a perfect partial arch to the ground. It landed several paces in front of Megatron.

"I suggest you let us out before he can process that fully," Prowl said calmly, though Skyfire was already almost down.

The pair walked out the bay door in time to see Megatron howling his outrage at a drawn-looking Optimus, who hadn't moved from where he stood at the front of the Autobots. He spared a glance for his newly-arrived officers, then turned back to the outraged Decepticon. 

"Hey!" Jazz shouted at him, getting the warlord's attention. 

" _You!_ " Megatron roared. "How dare you! This is outside the negotiated terms of--" 

" _This,_ " Jazz said, reaching the frame and kicking it with one pede, rolling it onto its back, "Was personal. From long before the war. And now he and I are even." He welcomed his mate against his back. 

"I'm sure you endured his rants about his stolen mate and creations." Prowl's calm, cool voice cut through even Megatron's rage and made him pause as truly ancient memories were dredged up.

Soundwave and Starscream were faster to catch on.

" _You're_ his pet noble?" Starscream stared at Jazz, his wings twitching in a mixture of disbelief and admiration.

"Prowl, Jazz: subjects terrorizing Vortex in Kaon," Soundwave stated. "Prowl, Jazz: Autobots at that time?"

"No, and not for a long time after that," Prowl shook his helm.

Jazz hummed, then felt the field of the Prime brushing up behind them. Backup, in case this went bad. "Maybe not the best time ta be reminiscing," he said, and grinned. "We might get nostalgic." 

"Lord Megatron," Soundwave cut in. "Soundwave: suggests retreat. Vortex: lost. Bruticus: lost. Autobots: have tactical advantage. Benefits from remaining: few or none." 

"Thaaat's right," Jazz said, waving his hand at them. "Run along home now."

Murderous red optics locked onto Jazz, and suddenly Prowl was between them, his doorwings raised in a blatant threat. Only one mech on the entire field didn't realize that Starscream took several rather quick steps back even before the Praxian spoke.

"Now that you are aware of what we are capable of, who wishes to be next?" Prowl asked, his tone utterly calm and controlled. The same one every mecha there recognized from endless joors of battlefield comms.

Soundwave took a step back, but Megatron raised his cannon.

"Lord Megatron." Soundwave sounded genuinely distressed. "Jazz, Prowl: are not what they seem. Retreat: necessary."

"If the slaghead wants to get himself killed, let him," Starscream hissed to the host, looking uneasily at Prowl's stance and the slow, barely-visible pulsing motions in his doorwings. 

_Threat. Bonded. Protect. Kill._

Jazz draped himself over Prowl from behind, his own doorwings more relaxed, but one thing in them was clear. 

_Bonded._

"Go ahead," Jazz said, grinning into the cannon. "I guarantee you'll hit thin air and then we'll tear you apart." 

Power began to shine within the weapon and the Seekers among the Decepticons launched off, shooting high enough in the air to watch but to be out of the way, and Soundwave's frame radiated distress.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker moved up, and a flick of two sets of doorwings greeted them in another blatant statement: Welcome _creations_. Unseen were two deadly snipers setting up to capture Megatron and others in their crossfire, but they would have been greeted the same as the frontliners.

Before the fusion cannon had finished powering up, the world went into motion.

Soundwave dropped from two sniper shots out of nowhere and two pairs of bonded mechs assaulted Megatron. Frontliner gladiators tore into him as was their training, while the SpecOps pair moved for precise, debilitating strikes as the snipers pinned down or dropped any Decepticon that looked intent to interfere.

Starscream had already called his own retreat and his trine had followed him without hesitation. Faced with the vengeful remnants of a Praxian triad who were better equipped, better armed, better fueled, there was a clear advantage on the Autobots' side. 

Devastator was the only reason Megatron escaped with his life, the merged gestalt snatching both him and Soundwave up and beating a hasty retreat that took the rest of the straggling army with it. Only Optimus's call kept the two pairs from following. 

"We do not engage after a retreat is called," the Prime said, thunder behind his voice. It had the predictable lack of effect on the twins. They obeyed but they were never happy to be called off a fight. Prowl's doorwings dropped in sharp submission, an apology and pleading for forgiveness all in a single movement.

Optimus looked around the field, his gaze almost sad when it fell on the retreating figures in the distance, before he went to Prowl and put a hand on his shoulder. "You're fine, it's all right," he soothed quietly. "We should return to base." His gaze shifted to Jazz, who stood near the twins. "Welcome back, it feels like much longer since I've seen you." 

"And that?" Jazz asked, jerking his head towards Vortex's remains. 

Optimus x-vented heavily in a mimic of a human sigh as he reluctantly looked over, and this time his optics _were_ sad. "We should not leave that where the humans can find it. It would cause an uproar, even they will be able to see what occurred." 

"Not ta mention the technology they shouldn't have," Jazz agreed, going over to heft up the gruesome mess by the chains again. "I'll get it, Prime." 

~I want to keep the spark chamber.~ Prowl pulsed over their still-new bond. "Is there an operational smelter?" he focused on Prime.

When Prime finished databursting all the smelters that they currently had access to, Ratchet stalked up to them. "I expect you both in my medbay within a joor. Clean."

Prowl simply nodded his acceptance and fell into step with his mate, their twins following them as something between guards and just needing to clean up themselves.

"I do not envy you when they find your berth again," Ratchet told Optimus quietly.

"I'm not entirely sure they will," Optimus mused, then shook his head and began the work of getting his mecha home.

* * *

The rapid paced cycles of Earth days, months, even years made life there stressful in many ways, but the Autobots were adjusting, and found themselves living at a faster pace at the same time. Autobot City was still being constructed, but Metroplex was well-settled and everyone was relieved to have plenty of space again. Ever more Autobots were moving to Earth, and there was now a permanent Autobot base on Luna as well as the beginnings of one on Mars. 

It was the year 2000 by the human calendar, an event of great significant to creatures that saw dozens of generations pass and massive cultural and technological changes each millennium. Yet it had only been a matter of metacycles since the memorable encounter with Megatron when the SIC and TIC had returned from a nearly metacycle long absence with the tortured and shredded remains of a Decepticon. While many were still talking about the battle, they were also talking about what else had been revealed that joor.

Jazz and Prowl, one of the oldest couples anyone knew, had only just bonded. Jazz had been force-bonded to Vortex since long before the war. The terror twins were their creations, as was Smokescreen, though they hadn't raised any of them. That their physical creations were all mated to their adopted creations weirded a few mecha out, but most shrugged it off. It wasn't like they were hurting anyone. 

Despite the time that had passed, when the Praxian couple chimed at their Prime's quarters less than a joor before he was scheduled to begin his recharge cycle, it did not surprise the big mech.

"Come in," Optimus called, sounding almost relieved. 

"Good evening, Prime," Prowl's voice was warm and smooth, his frame language calmer than ever before. A weight that had driven him for so long was gone, and he was still very much on the rebound.

"I was not sure I would ever have the pleasure of your company again," Optimus admitted as they entered. He was reclining on his berth, predictably working instead of relaxing, but subspaced the datapad immediately. "Did you just return?" 

"Ratchet just released us," Jazz said. "Everything went well. Shockwave's not gonna be a problem anymore." 

"Then it will be time for a major offensive soon," Optimus sighed. "It is time to take our world back."

"Yes, but first you have been without comfort for too long," Prowl stepped closer. "It is past time we returned to that duty."

Optimus could only nod. He didn't even have the energy to assure them he was all right and that they shouldn't feel obliged ... because the truth was, he wasn't all right. The Prime had never been intended to be a military figure, and while he and the Matrix had adjusted to make it work, the stress of no longer being a spiritual and social guide to his kind was starting to strain him. Ratchet had been noticing for a while and badgering him to invoke a Prime's Right for another pair, but he'd refused. So far. It had gotten to the point where he was trying to decide which of the mated mecha he knew would feel the most comfortable with the task while not making him feel like an idol. 

So to have these two unexpectedly knocking at his door, so to speak, was a relief beyond measure. 

"Been a while, yeah?" Jazz said climbing onto the berth while his mate walked around to the other side so they could press the Prime between them. "You even gotten _any_ in the last decade and a half?"

"Yes, no," Optimus moaned, his field flaring out to encompass the pair that had become so important to his psychological and spiritual well being. "Thank you."

"I apologize for taking so long, my Prime," Prowl murmured as flared his field into the large mech, focusing on his feelings for Jazz and Radiance as he did so. "I never intended you to suffer so by our absence."

"You've been..." Optimus's field pulsed as close as it could, "...Otherwise and understandably engaged." 

"Mostly my fault," Jazz said with a grin, head on the Prime's shoulder. "Been lovin' on my honey." 

"It's really all right," Optimus said with a soft moan. "Your bond feels _incredible._ "

"We are not quite so fractured now," Prowl gave his mate a look over Prime's frame and pulsed hard across the bond and his field, pouring all his love, devotion and adoration of his mate through it.

Jazz purred and reached over the Prime to link their fingers together and pushed back his wonder and excitement and the hope he was finally starting to feel for their lives. 

"I-I feel that," Optimus gasped, his optics suddenly bright as his field shivered against them. "It is truly amazing." He moaned again, the pulses of his spark speeding up as their fields caressed his, his spark caught between their bond. The Matrix was sensitive to the otherwise subspace phenomenon and it poured directly into his spark and flooded it from the inside, love and peace filling in the shattered places. 

The world had been hurt, and broken, but there was hope for the future. It was distant, but he could keep fighting. With devotion like this, he could keep fighting for their kind. 

"I-- _I_ \-- _!_ " Optimus cried out, shuddering, and his spark _exploded_ in his chamber, rippling waves of ecstasy coursing up and through all three.

Prowl moaned and arched as Jazz clung to the Prime, drawn instinctively closer to the source of energy, both of them caught by surprise at the intensity of it before sinking into the bliss. Prowl had never felt it like this before, and it felt _good_ to give the Prime such a release. He willingly fed it all they could.

They settled together as the waves passed, panting and limp. "I ... have never felt anything like that," Optimus murmured, dazed and teeking of a giddiness that was nearly at Jazz levels.

"I will enjoy feeling that often," Prowl purred before climbing over the larger mech to pin his love to the berth. "A nice buzz to get worked up for the main event."

Prime's hands moved lightly over Prowl's frame, barely touching, finally settling near his hips. "There has been much speculation about you two," he murmured, amused and eager. "And whether you even still bother with physical interface." 

Jazz snorted. "Frag yes we do," he said, thrusting his hips up into Prowl's, and grinned. "Lookit this mech, how is that even a question?"

"With such a stunning mate, how could I not still want to feel him in every possible way?" Prowl moaned at the matching contact. ~Offer my valve to him, or still too much?~ he asked as he claimed Jazz's mouth and allowed his spike to slide free.

Jazz's legs parted, lifted and moved back as he deepened the kiss. ~If you would like him,~ he finally decided, and then, ~I think I'd like to feel you pinned between us.~ He pushed over the security and strength that the bond gave him, the certainty of what they were and what they would never be. 

Prowl shivered at how good that felt and slid his valve cover open. "Fill me?" he glanced over his shoulder at his leader.

Optimus looked startled by the request, but he could teek how calm they both were, and how settled Jazz was. They were steadier than they ever had been before. "Gladly," he rumbled, excited and allowing himself to be aroused like this in their presence for the first time. 

Jazz's valve cover slid away for his mate and Prowl pushed easily in and then held there, his own valve on display for his Prime. "It has been quite a while," Optimus murmured as he brought a finger to the slick opening, circling it gently before pressing in. He felt the immediate, reflexive tightening around the digit and Prowl moaned. Optimus pulled out and pushed two in, crooking them as he stroked. Prowl shivered and cried out in pleasure and wanting. His valve tightened around the intruding digits, already larger than most spikes he'd taken, and reveled in the permission to feel this particular one stretch and fill him once more.

Jazz moaned from the sensations coming over the bond and couldn't keep his hips from bucking up against his mate, grip tightening around him. ~Feels good,~ he murmured, and realized as he looked over Prowl's shoulder that the slow pace was not only for the SIC. 

Optimus was looking right into Jazz's visor as he pushed and pulled at the trapped Praxian, pulsing calm into his field, and when Jazz heard Prowl moan deeply over him and felt the stirrings of _panic_ in his spark, he understood why. Now that he was here, and there was a third actually joining it, it was harder than it had been just a klik prior, imagining it.

~My love, nothing can replace our third,~ Prowl pulsed across the bond, filling it with all he felt for their lost mate. ~Enjoying this is no more an effort to replace Radiance than my laying with Prime was an effort to replace either of you.~ He leaned in to capture Jazz's mouth in a soft, loving kiss. ~Prime can be our lover. He can never be our third.~

A groan as the kiss deepened and Jazz's field ran clear and smooth again, soothed by that promise, and Optimus correctly read it as the last piece of permission that he'd needed and pulled his fingers away, getting a protesting whine from Prowl. 

"Patience," the larger mech chuckled and gripped Prowl's hips, lining his spike up, and pushed forward, piercing him, the head slipping in easily. 

Jazz cried out louder than Prowl did, fingers clenching down on his mate's armor as Prowl was slowly pressed fully inside him, even the swollen bulbs at the base, right up to the housing. Their bond was absolutely alive with the physical pleasure, but also with the pleasure Prowl took in Jazz's progress since their bonding. Integrating back into the crew had been stressful between Jazz's new looks, the questions they raised, and the spectacular way everyone had been introduced to the capabilities of their SIC and TIC. Not everyone had settled yet, but Prime's acceptance had smoothed over a lot. The recent successes in their war, unquestionably due to the efforts of the newly-bonded pair that fed off each other's power, won them more respect than they had lost from the entire thing. 

Of course, for the pair in question, the fact that there was a bond at all was more important than what anyone thought of them. 

"Relax," Optimus purred to the pair, one arm around Prowl's waist and the other holding onto Jazz's. "Let me move for you," he kissed his way down Prowl's backstrut, rocking slowly, pulling in and out of Prowl, at the same time moving him in and out of his mate.

" _Ohh_ wow," Jazz moaned, head back.

"Yes," Prowl agreed, his entire frame relaxed, the Prime's to move and command as he willed. "So very good," he moaned. "Never a threat."

Optimus was fighting off his own overload from everything pouring out of their fields and pulsing from their bond. Soothing, caressing, mixing the spiritual with the physical as they worshiped together. 

Their worship was true and absolutely devoted, and to _each other_ , a novelty for him. Worship born of love instead of duty towards a title always felt so much better. Driving, thrusting, moaning, moving the pair against each other and driving them towards overload was a true joy for him, and it gave him so much to feel. 

"Lo- _love_ you!" Jazz cried, a plural Praxian call not meant for Optimus. His armor unlocked, his chest parted, and his whine as he pulled against Prowl was almost desperate. Optimus moaned when the energy from the uncovered spark washed out over him, and shuddered when the second spark joined it only nanokliks later. The two halves, still so very new in the bond that had been denied for so terribly long, lunged for each other in a crash and crackle of energy. In time it would become making love, but little more than a metacycle after bonding the need was still far too intense to control easily.

~My love, my mate, my _bonded_.~ Prowl's spark rippled with joy at the truth as it plunged into its mate, willingly and eagerly surrendering itself even as it accepted the complete surrender from its other half.

Tumbling, spinning, dancing, laughing, twirling was the answer as the sparks pushed together, frames all but forgotten but for the way Optimus was still pushing them together, friction building and all three shuddering. When overload claimed them all, no one knew who had tumbled over first, just that it was blissfully erotic and the keening roars consumed them. 

Sparks writhed in ecstasy as frames shook and spilled and quivered, wave after wave riding over and through while Optimus and Jazz absorbed the extra energy from Prowl that the tac-net had deemed to be too dangerous. It left Prowl shaking long after his mate and Prime had grown still, the lower discharge drawing the overload out. When his processor finally cleared, he came to still buried and filled, to the feeling of Jazz's mouth against his. 

"Thank you," Optimus moaned softly. 

At first Prowl could only hum, his attention riveted on his mate, but eventually the kiss ended and he caught up with the rest of his input feeds.

"You are welcome," he purred softly. "It is our pleasure to be with you and heal you."

Optimus huffed with soft amusement. "It is more mine," he said, and very carefully rolled to his side, arms around them both and holding them tightly as they shut down for recharge, Prowl still buried in his bonded and both mates radiating the intensity of their love in a soothing emotional blanket that allowed Optimus Prime to recharge better than he could ever remember.

* * *

Prowl, predictably, began to boot first and finished second to his mate while Optimus oversaw the entire process, a mix of protective and thoughtful.

"'Morning lover," Jazz purred, nuzzling his bonded. 

"Morning," Prowl nuzzled into a greeting kiss.

"We have a joor," Optimus murmured. 

"Mm, joor for what?" Jazz asked, lost in greeting his mate. 

"A healing merge," Optimus suggested gently. "I know Prowl has long wished for you to be able to indulge in it."

"'M all right," Jazz said, and grinned into a kiss. "C'mon, there's _gotta_ be a better way ta spend a joor."

"Having experienced several, it is worth it, if you are ready to accept it," Prowl said gently. The bond pulsed with reassurance, hope and absolute devotion.

It was the hope that caught Jazz by surprise and he stilled, looking into Prowl's optics. "It ... helps?" he asked. Part of him wanted it, part of him wanted the chance of moving forward, and he wanted to _want_ to keep living with Prowl. He wanted to look forward to living with his mate, not dying with him. 

Part of him was afraid of what could happen. 

"Yes," Prowl promised, a sentiment echoed far more fervently by his spark. "There is pain, and distress and truths that you may not want to face," he said very seriously. "On the other side though, is feeling better, being more at peace with what has happened. It was very much worth it for me."

"And I won't forget anything," Jazz said, half asking, looking at Optimus. 

The Prime shook his head. "Not a thing. You will remember Radiance with the same clarity and love as you always have." Because there was no question of what Jazz had never been able to fully recover from. "It will even still hurt. But you will be better equipped for the _now_." 

"And wanting to join him," Jazz said, tense. "What happens to that?" 

"I can't tell you all of that," Optimus said. "Because I don't know. Your love for him will not change, that's all I can say." 

Jazz looked at him warily, then back to his mate, and nodded. 

Prowl kissed him softly with the bond full of reassurance. "Thank you."

While the couple reassured themselves, mostly Prowl assuring Jazz, Optimus Prime settled at the head of the berth with his back supported and waited for Jazz to be ready to join him.

It took a few kliks, but finally Jazz was able to part from his mate and climbed up into Optimus's lap, hands against his windshield, settling himself there. 

"There we go," Optimus said with a smile as his battle mask retracted. His arm wrapped around Jazz's back to support him and his chest folded back in the series of transformation sequences that revealed his crystal chamber. "It helps if you open your chest," he said earnestly when after a long moment, Jazz still hadn't responded. 

It startled the saboteur and then he grinned up at the Prime. "Nah, thought we'd just do it like this," he said, but his own chest split and parted. 

Optimus extended his field, directed it towards Jazz's spark, but allowed the smaller mech to set the pace of the merge. He offered his services, comfort, a promise of healing and his care for Jazz. It had to be Jazz's choice to merge, and he had to have the ability to back out at any moment prior to the Matrix becoming involved. After that, the merge would continue until Optimus released it. 

The skittish mech in his arms--a near opposite of who he was when he was commanding or working, or even just talking with anyone outside this room--slowly drew forward and pressed his spark out, and it brushed to Optimus's, tendrils tying together and pulling them closer. 

It was quick, and performed without the sensuality that Optimus knew was part of every merge with Prowl, hurried through like a duty not looked forward to. 

But it was enough, and the merge completed with a breathless feeling, as Jazz took in his Prime with some awe. It was one thing to know the Prime had been changed by the Matrix of Leadership. It was yet another to experience it second hand through Prowl. To actually merge with such power made Jazz wobble a bit as he suddenly grasped that he had no control but what he was given here.

If he wanted out, he had to be let out.

~I will not hold you here against your will,~ Optimus promised softly, his mental voice only half himself. ~You are here to heal, not to be hurt again.~

Jazz's spark flickered in understanding, captivated by that voice, thinking he had a better idea of why a merge with the Prime had made his lover react the way he had. ~So what, ah, what now?~ he asked, shivering.

~Now we look at what your spark is holding onto that prevents you from moving forward,~ Optimus explained gently. ~Vortex, Radiance, your creations, grief and guilt.~

Jazz slammed backwards, pulsing rapidly, and fought against the desire to want _out_. ~ _None_ of that needs looked at.~

The corner of Jazz's spark that was Prowl pulsed with support, a silent assurance that he should and could be strong.

~It all does,~ Prime insisted, and it was definitely something beyond _Optimus_ now. ~You are stuck where you are. Your vengeance is complete, yet you have not accepted that there is something beyond.~

~Of course there is,~ Jazz said, and images from long-ago illustrations of the Well flickered through his thoughts, cut with images of Radiance. ~Winning back Cybertron.~

~Is that your desire, to join your mate?~ Prime rumbled, hinting that it wasn't such a simple question. ~There are no promises for what you might find in the Well.~

~ _Yes,_ ~ Jazz whispered. ~It's the closest we can be to him, whatever happens.~

~You are still young, Jazz,~ the voice softened somewhat. ~One of your mates is still with you, bonded and vibrant.~

~We were never meant to outlive our third!~ Jazz protested, almost keened. ~We should have been bonded, we should have been able to let the break take us!~

~You believe he is waiting for you in the Well, with Primus?~ the voice pressed at Jazz's spark, teasing and tugging at the tangled knot of pain, love, devotion, grief, loss, hate and self-blame that wound around and through the glyph that was Radiance's designation.

Jazz curled, shuddering as it loosened with each pull. ~If there is a Well, if there is a Primus, he would have deserved it more than anyone.~

~And you, Prowl?~ the voice prodded gently as emotions Jazz had long suppressed to an extent unfolded here with a spark that would not let him turn away.

~Prowl has only ever been loyal,~ Jazz managed, fighting not to look. ~Done everything to serve me. Nothing was his fault. He serves _you,_ he deserves peace.~

~And your fate?~ the voice prodded again.

~Mine?~ Jazz echoed, brokenly, and with a final pull the knot came loose and all the guilt and hate and self-loathing surged out and began to spiral around him, faster and faster until it had formed a vortex in the center of his spark, one that Jazz felt like he was standing on the precipice of, looking down into a black infinity. 

Screams echoed up, designations, faces, the colors of a thousand sparks mixing together into a uniform gray that wrapped around his arms and legs and pulled him, topping him over the edge and he _screamed_ and he knew that the fall and the pain would never stop. 

And then it ended, it was gone with a brush from the Prime and Jazz was jolted as he found himself back at the top, staring into the spark that had simply pushed the vision away. 

~Th-that,~ Jazz stammered, and the loss started to flow around him. Loss and fear that there was nothing more to hope for, that he should have acted sooner, faster, regret that his creation had been right all along, that his need for vengeance had destroyed the happiness they might have known together. 

~The future is always in motion. What might have been can never be known,~ the voice reminded Jazz firmly. ~Is not Prowl's love something worth enjoying?~

~With every pulse of my spark,~ Jazz whispered, and shuddered with grief-spasms that wracked through him, cutting and tearing away at his spark, all of it wrapped around the memory, not his own, of a golden spark trembling in the ecstasy of a merge.

~He desires your happiness.~ the voice said, and again it was something that Jazz couldn't have challenged even if he'd been inclined to. ~You could have a long, good existence together.~

~What if I move on? What if I forget?~ 

_Fear-guilt-pain-loss-longing-hate-guilt-guilt-guilt-guilt-guilt-guilt-guilt-guilt--_

~Has Prowl?~ the voice asked, breaking the emotional cacophony for a moment. ~Healing has never meant forgetting,~ it explained patiently. ~It only means letting go of the pain so all you recall is the pleasant.~

~Prowl...~ Jazz said quietly, and everything stopped with that designation. ~He's better than me, he served well, my coding--my coding--it should have gone to him and I couldn't let it and it was destroyed so it _couldn't_ go to them, should have gone to them, can I heal and remember without?~ was the confusing, rushed explanation. 

~It is your spark that must heal,~ the voice reminded him gently but firmly. ~Your coding does not exist here. It is only you. Yes, you can heal, remember and enjoy a future without the coding. It is nothing more than a shackle. Prowl's coding tied him in much the same way. It is your spark that must heal, not your mind.~

~Why?~ Jazz whispered. 

_Why do I deserve that?_

~Because all sparks deserve to heal,~ the voice replied simply and honestly. ~In a frame or after, all sparks heal. Eventually.~

~...How do I start?~ Jazz finally asked. 

In answer, Optimus drew him up and away and showed him ... _himself_ , trapped beneath the weight of everything that he'd freed. Freed from the designation that burned into him, but now smothering. ~You forgive yourself.~

Shock, and denial, and Jazz twisted away. Optimus let him go, but stayed there, open and accepting. 

~How can I?~ Jazz demanded. 

~It will take time,~ Optimus said. ~More than one merge. And it will hurt. And it's your choice, always. But if you don't...~ The vision shifted to show Prowl, smothered by the same grief. ~Your mate will be trapped with you, unable to move forward into the life he dreams for you.~

~...Prowl dreams for me?~ Jazz asked quietly.

~Yes. It is why he wants you to heal. He envisions a future where you are no longer burdened by yourself, your past.~ Images flickered up of things Prowl had shared during healing merges and for pleasure, or to simply _talk_ to a mech that would neither judge nor use it against him. Once Prowl had understood what healing meant, he had wanted it for his mate so very badly.

Jazz looked warily at the open spark and hesitantly crept back into it, curling up. ~I miss him,~ he half sobbed, and Optimus pulled the unspoken designation between them and ran cooling light over it, smoothing the jagged edges. Jazz shuddered and gasped and Optimus continued until the crackling burning had been dulled to an aching heat. ~Should have tried harder.~

~He would not blame you,~ the voice insisted. ~He would not want you to continue to hurt.~

~I know,~ Jazz moaned, and in here, he realized he _did_ know, and he gave himself over into the Prime's embrace as that spark ran around and through his, soothing the jagged edges and setting the broken places with its own life force. 

When Jazz could take no more he felt himself slide into a kind of recharge, but of the spark, and back into his frame. He was only absently aware of how gently he was laid on the berth, but he was fully focused the moment Prowl's mouth found his and Prowl's spark was so close they could touch but for their armor.

~I'm so proud of you,~ Prowl's love and happiness rippled across their bond.

~I love you,~ Jazz managed. 

"Your spark will be brittle for a few orns," Optimus's voice broke through the haze. "Be gentle with yourself."

Prowl's gaze shifted focus to the Prime for a moment. "What will help the most?"

"Routine," Optimus said, hand on Jazz's helm. "No spark merges, just for a few orns after one of these, and there should be more," he told Jazz. "It'll take time." 

Jazz nodded and curled up against Prowl. "I know," he murmured, and his spark _did_ feel brittle, and strange, and Radiance's absence felt raw, but when it started to ease under Prowl's touch, he didn't find himself clinging to it.

"I think I'll head in early," Optimus rumbled, nuzzled Prowl fondly, and quietly slipped out of the room. 

"He said ... that you dream for us," Jazz said, bringing Prowl's hand to his mouth and kissing the palm. 

"Yes," Prowl nuzzled into a kiss. "Once Prime healed me I was able to see past the vengeance and to what the future could be, after Vortex, after the war, after rebuilding. All our creations will bond, there will be sparklings to raise again, a powerful House and estate to run once more. If Prime has his way, a _world_ to run, for me."

"Primus save us from the creations that Mirage will carry," Jazz chuckled. "Just watch his newsparks split and leave us with twice as many little Pit demons running around. I'd like that, I think," he said, fingers running over Prowl's chevron. "A world like that. What about ... _us?_ " 

"I'd like to carry again," Prowl couldn't have hidden the longing there if he'd tried. "I'd like to actually raise a creation of mine, of ours."

Jazz rolled, pushing his mate to his back and settling over him to take a deep kiss. "Maybe," he murmured, before tucking his head against Prowl's shoulder. "Let me get used to the idea."

Prowl wrapped his arms around his love and hummed. The bond pulsed with affection, loyalty and support as they settled. "As long as you need, my love. Healing takes time."


	53. The End of an Era

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus the massive saga that is Starcrossed is done.  
> Please, _please_ read [Starcrossed: Mirage](http://archiveofourown.org/works/947556/chapters/1850739) before reading this chapter. At least read ch 10-11.

"You're brooding," Sideswipe nuzzled Mirage. Even after three overloads, the noble, the _last_ noble, was thoughtful rather than tired.

"Just thinking," Mirage murmured, nuzzling back. It got a sleepy grumble from Sunstreaker, who was draped across Mirage, head on his chest. His optics reluctantly powered back on and he lifted his head enough to look up at his twin and their mate.

"About?" Sideswipe prodded.

Mirage hummed. "What it will be like, at the end," he said quietly, his fingers playing over Sideswipe's sensor horns. "I don't think Jazz and Prowl will be here for much longer. Not with the economy the way it is. And Praxus is thriving."

It wasn't the statement so much as the sub-harmonics that caught their attention and abruptly both twins were wide awake.

"Why check out when everything's _finally_ getting good?" Sideswipe demanded, suddenly afraid.

"We're not that old!" Sunstreaker objected, all too aware that he and Sideswipe were Jazz's age for all practical purposes at this stage.

"The only reason they've stayed this long is to _make_ everything good, do what they can to ensure that it won't happen again," Mirage said with a soothing trill to his anxious mates. He wasn't done with life, wasn't done with _them_. "Now that it is ... I think they're fading. What would you have done, if you'd lost me in the final battles?"

"Torn every Con we could find apart until someone managed to stop us," Sunstreaker said simply.

"And then?" Mirage asked simply, pressing his hand to his yellow lover's face. "When you were still alive at the end of it? No one could have stopped you then, not in your prime." 

"Some mechs could have," Sideswipe said quietly. "Some fights we wouldn't win."

"But if we did? Jazz would have put us down when we turned on Prime, or him, or Prowl, whoever was most obviously to blame," Sunstreaker said.

"Yeah, even in battle we did so well because we avoided the fights we had poor odds of winning unless we _really_ had to take it on," Sideswipe murmured. "We fought smarter than most gave us credit for."

Mirage kissed the top of a single sensor horn while he rubbed a helm fin. "I know," he said with an indulgent smile. Almost everyone underestimated their intelligence, but he knew that Sideswipe kept records in his processor that rivaled what most small businesses needed several external drives to record. Sunstreaker kept fewer real records, but had immense processing power, much of it devoted to visual input and motor control at least as fine as the best surgeons. "What I'm going for is ... even if they could physically live longer, I don't think their sparks _want_ to. They were alive to destroy the Decepticons, then to rebuild Praxus, then to ensure that it would never fall into the same tragedy. They've done that."

The twins looked at each other over Mirage, the bond humming with sensations and half thoughts that Mirage only managed to catch part of.

"Surviving for the sake of surviving isn't worth it for them," Sideswipe murmured in a form of comprehension.

"Prowl's _old_ too," Sunstreaker added thoughtfully. "He was old for his type when Jazz was created. Maybe maintenance only goes so far?"

"I've never asked," Mirage said quietly. "I'm sure that must be part of it. He hated to let anyone besides Ratchet and Wheeljack touch his frame, now that they're gone..." Wordlessly he shifted and all three moved flawlessly together until the twins were curled around him and he had his face tucked against Sunstreaker's neck, as Sideswipe protected him from behind. "I don't want to go, not yet. We're not ready. They are, and I'm just wondering when we will be, and what it will be like."

"Quiet," Sideswipe murmured. "It'll be quiet, peaceful, all the things you like."

"Like how Memor went," Sunstreaker suggested. "Just sort of shut down and not boot up again."

Mirage hummed. "I'd like to last long enough to make sure this Prime is doing well. See out the territory unification."

"I'm sure you will," Sideswipe said easily, believing what he said. After all they'd survived and seen--four Primes, the Great War, the new Golden Age and all their personal trials--it was easy to believe they would choose when and how they'd go out.

"Yeah, Galini's about as different from Rodimus as Rodimus from Prime," Sideswipe chuckled to himself. "Though Galini's a lot like Prime."

"We'll be some of the last mecha who have to translate 'Prime' to 'Optimus Prime' when talking to others," Sunstreaker said randomly.

"We already are," Sideswipe pointed out. "Not _that_ many left who fought in the war on either side."

"Jazz, Prowl, us, Whiplash, Blaster, Soundwave, Starscream," Mirage recited the very short list. "...Wow." 

"Yeah, we're the only three that don't remember Sentinel well enough for him to have been our first Prime," Sideswipe murmured. "Though Optimus is probably Prime to all but Whiplash. Talk about an _old_ mech that doesn't look it. I'd swear he's younger than us the way he comes across."

"Sexy little minibot, that's for sure," Mirage said with a chuckle. "I'd hit that." The playfully possessive growls from his lovers made him play-growl back at them. "You don't want me to hit that?"

"No," the pair answered in unison, the bond flooded with a mixture of love, devotion and savage possessiveness.

"You are _ours_ ," Sideswipe growled while Sunstreaker grabbed the back of Mirage's helm to pull him into a demanding kiss.

Mirage trilled joyfully as his hands ran over the strong, broad chest beneath his fingertips, felt the power in the legs that pushed against him from behind. ~Yes,~ he said with purring engines through the kiss. ~Yes I am.~

Sunstreaker pushed him back with a deep rumble and Sideswipe held him, lifting until Mirage wrapped his legs around back, opening himself up for both of them, joyful that he no longer needed the extensive prep and slowness of the early times they'd taken him together. They pushed in eagerly, more than ready to feel _alive_ and move past any talk of their deaths, or any other.

* * *

Nightdrop glided through the party, the largest Praxus had hosted that wasn't open to the public. Though he did this kind of socializing small talk every night in the nightclub he owned, this was a gathering like no other. It was called a living wake, or at least that was what his creators called it. It was _their_ living wake. A goodbye, a funeral that they got to attend. It was a weird concept, but he understood. The patriarchs of his family had many, many mecha to say goodbye to. Twenty-seven surviving creations, of which Nightdrop was the second youngest, the last one Prowl had managed to carry. He was also one of only three that did not have a mate and one of only two that didn't have a creation yet.

All in all this gathering represented twelve generations, more than three thousand mecha, and only five of them had been created before the Great War ended. All five of those had been created _long_ before the Great War ended.

Two of those five were going to extinguish soon, and everyone was looking a bit nervously at what changes might happen with Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and Mirage in the honorary position of family patriarchs.

Jazz and Prowl seemed at ease on the subject, though, which reassured those who were close enough to the higher generations to be affected. For the most part, this family's motto had become live and let live. The exceptions, of course, came in the form of swift and thorough revenge for any who harmed one of their own, even if that kind of retaliation had long been illegal and carried heavy penalties if caught. Jazz and Prowl were from before the war, in a time that had been darker, less stable, when mecha were pre-programmed in a way that most alive now found horrifying. Nightdrop's spark shuddered at the thought of being created with coding that _drove_ him to desire one function. It had made life less valuable, or so he was told. 

He could see his creators through the crowd, talking with family, friends, looking completely at peace with the gathering and what it represented. Their age was most apparent in their finish and their builds, particularly Prowl's. Jazz had kept up with fashion for millennia, but it was easy to see when he'd stopped. That had been a few centuries before Nightdrop's kindling. He still kept his finish up, but Jazz no longer tried to look like he was still in his prime. Prowl, by all accounts, hadn't changed his frame or colors to any credible extent since he'd joined the Autobots, but he'd always taken great care to look professional and in good repair. It was only in the last decade that he had really begun to show his extreme age, and Jazz had begun to degrade rapidly not long afterwards.

Nightdrop wasn't surprised. After being bonded for so long, when one began to fade it wasn't just social convention that expected the other to follow. He'd listened to them, bright stories when he was a youngling, then the more serious talks when he'd been a mechling, about how to know if a mecha was the right one to bond with, what to expect from a broken bond, what it took to survive it, and the joy it brought that was worth all the pain. That talk all their creations heard. What only he and Dreamwind had heard was that if a love-bond survived long enough and was deep enough, it could become as thick and strong as a twin bond. Truly one spark in two frames.

The orn his creators had realized that he had long been told was both the most joyous and painful of their long, long existence. As close and complete as they were, they still missed their third deeply.

That thought drew his optic to the painting of a triad that few would recognize as that of the mecha saying goodbye this orn. Their creations all knew, there was no way to be raised in this house and not know who they were and who the dark, golden-trimmed third was. He wondered sometimes if his older siblings had felt the same way he did, like their third had been part of their lives, and if they grieved for his deactivation as much as he did, even though it had happened many thousands of centuries before his existence. 

He smiled at one of his older brothers, one he knew reasonably well, before carefully moving through the crowd to his creators. They were both sitting on a lounge, letting mecha come to them instead of moving about the room. Nightdrop lingered far enough away to not intrude but still able to listen to the conversation they were having with a great-great-grandcreation and his five-vorn sparkling. 

"Carrier said you're going away," the sparkling said, reaching his arms out for Prowl. Jazz smoothly took him instead and settled him on his lap, tapping his nose with a single finger. 

"That's right," the elderly mech hummed, as Prowl rubbed the sparkling's back. "It's time for us to deactivate." 

"Like Firefly did?" the sparkling asked quietly.

"Yes, sweetspark," Jazz's said with a melancholy smile. "But Firefly wasn't ready to go, and we are." 

"Why?"

"Because we've lived for a very long time and we are very tired," Jazz said. Prowl's doorwings lifted fractionally in agreement. "And we want to rest. We want you to be happy for us that we get to rest." 

"But everyone was sad when Firefly went away," the sparkling said, looking up with bright optics. 

"Firefly was taken too soon," Jazz said. "We're choosing to go, and we're happy to deactivate. We'll be together, and we won't be in pain anymore." 

"But I'll miss you," the sparkling said, hugging Prowl's arm and holding onto Jazz's finger. 

"And that's okay," Jazz said with a fond nuzzle. "But even when you miss us, remember that we're at peace, all right? It's okay to be sad, and normal, but this is a choice that we've thought about for a long time, and we talked to each other, and it's what we want to do."

"But isn't it scary?" 

Jazz and Prowl smiled in unison. "No, little one," Jazz answered for both of them. "There's nothing to be scared of. It's just part of life. We'll be in the Well, and some orn, so will you. But not for a long, long time, all right?" 

The sparkling nodded. "All right," he said, as he hugged them both one more time before being scooped back up by his carrier, who finished with his goodbyes before disappearing back into the crowd. 

Nightdrop took the opportunity to step forward and his sire spotted him immediately. "Nightdrop," Jazz greeted warmly, quietly. 

"It is good to have this chance, creators," he leaned down to touch chevrons with each of them, his field warm and with only a touch of sadness at the coming loss. "I'm glad my final memories will be of you healthy, sane and at peace."

"As are we," Jazz said, speaking for them both as Prowl's optics glowed with affection for his youngest carried creation. "Sit down and tell us about these Seekerkins we've been hearing about." 

Nightdrop ducked his sensor wings and obeyed. No longer were they the doorwings Prowl still sported. Halfway between the end of the war and current times a radical new design had been developed for the Praxian frame that made them look like slender-winged fliers with relatively flat chests. The longest of those sensor wings could almost touch the ground, though Nightdrop kept his to just below his hip. The chevron was the same, though. That had never changed. Neither had the tradition of engraving a bonded's designation or triad glyph into its shield.

"They are dancers at my club, already a bonded pair and looking for a third," he smiled as he thought about the slender pair of flashy fliers. "Old enough that they aren't doing this on a whim. They love the club scene and dancing for a crowd."

Prowl hummed with a smile and Jazz turned to him with a faint grin, drawing him into a careful kiss. "Takes after you, my love," Jazz said, before turning back to Nightdrop. "I was a dancer, before the war. You know how to tell if they're the right ones?" 

"I know, Sire," Nightdrop said, and smiled, because he knew he was going to hear it again anyway. As Jazz talked, he listened to every word like he was hearing it for the first time, instead of the several dozenth. After a while a hand fell on his shoulder and he looked up to see an older brother, one of the very oldest. Nocturne smiled warmly at him and slid into the empty seat beside, joining in the dutiful listening. 

When Jazz finished, his optics refocused and he looked at the newcomer for a moment. "Nocturne, when did you get here?" he asked. 

"A few kliks ago, Carrier," Nocturne said, and touched his chevron to his creators'. 

"We weren't sure..." 

"I wanted to at least come by, just to say..." Nocturne said, and trailed off. 

"We love you," Jazz said, simply, easily, and hugged him. "We know you can't stay." 

"I can't, at least not for long," Nocturne agreed, kissed Jazz on the cheek, and then Prowl. "Thank you, for everything."

"It was our pleasure," Prowl smiled at him warmly, his voice thick with static from disuse. "You have done a fine job raising your creations and we could not be more proud of your function. You use our skills in a way we never dreamed possible."

Nocturne gave a soft laugh. "You're the ones that taught me," he said, taking each of their hands and holding them together in his own. "I ... wish I could stay longer, but I don't want to put everyone at risk..." 

"Did you have a tail?" Jazz asked, curious instead of concerned. 

"Shook it," Nocturne said, giving his carrier a fondly exasperated look. "You think I would have come in with an active tail?" 

"No," Jazz said with a smile. "Shift on your way out." 

"I will," Nocturne promised. "Primus, so much to say and not enough time..." 

"Shh, sweetspark," Jazz murmured, and reached out to caress his face. "Nothing at all to say. It's all been said." 

"I'm going to miss you," Nocturne said, forcing the smile now.

"We know," Prowl said gently, then reached out with a surprisingly strong hand to hardline for only a fraction of a klik hidden in the hand to arm greeting. ~Come back with your mate, if you can. I will share all you need to know,~ he promised before disconnecting. "You are strong. As strong as any in this clade. We will miss hearing of your reports."

"We're finally going _home_ to Radiance," Jazz said the one thing not a single being who knew them did not understand the full importance of. It wasn't just that they were going to the Well, that their lives would end. After so very, very long, they would finally be whole, no longer separated from their third. "You keep up on those politicians, and keep my dear Whiplash in line. He needs someone he trusts to challenge him now and then."

"He needs a swift kick on the aft is what he needs," Nocturne said with a laugh. "I'll keep him out of trouble, I promise." He stood, leaned in for one more tight, lingering hug with both of them, then turned quickly on heel and left before it could get any harder.

His creators let him go, watching with pride and sadness that it was so hard for him.

~From two mechs who spent their lives controlling information, comes a creation determined to set it free,~ Prowl said softly with a bit of wonder. ~To see SpecOps skills used for investigative journalism....~

~We taught him what we learned,~ Jazz murmured. ~He did the right thing with those lessons. Information should never be a secret.~ He looked back to Nightdrop with a smile. "You will stay after, won't you?" 

"Of course I will, Sire," Nightdrop said, and leaned in to kiss them both as he stood. "You haven't seen the last of me yet." 

Jazz chuckled with glittering optics and Prowl smiled, then their attention shifted to the next visitor, a grand creation that Nightdrop had never met before, who had brought his own sparklings for them to meet. He hung around a bit to catch the introductions, then moved on to mingle and get all the other designations and faceplates he knew matched to family he'd never actually met.

* * *

The living wake was over. Even spread out over most of a decaorn, it had still been a processor-stunning number of decedents. Even before the war, the idea of producing twenty-seven creations in ten thousand vorns was beyond what even the most prolific managed.

~It was lovely to see everyone, but I'm glad it's over,~ Prowl murmured as they walked into the large living-dining room after a long recharge. ~Someone's been cleaning.~

~I don't know about cleaning, but it's Whiplash in there now,~ Jazz said with a fond smile. ~Sneaky little unholy terror, I had no idea he was here.~ They turned the corner to see Whiplash perched up on a chair that enabled him to reach the standard sized counters, mixing something together over one of the high heat burners.

"Obviously my alarm system is lacking," Jazz remarked to announce their presence.

"I thought it was quite impressive, actually," the matte black mech grinned at them over his shoulder. "It took me nearly three joors. That's a record and then some."

Jazz chuckled. "It did better than I expected, then," he said, and led his mate over to sit down on the other side of the counter, well aware that Prowl's frame and spark were inclined to ache if he stood for too long. The fine balance that had once made movement effortless was gone now, for them both, if Jazz was honest. "Of course Prowl designed it. I'm more impressed that you've kept your claws off our creations," he grinned.

Whiplash regarded them steadily for a lingering moment, taking in the extensive degrading that had occurred in just those three joors. "Who said I have?" he teased them, only to raise his hands when Prowl's engine gave a warning growl. "Calm. Nocturne is as close to an agent as I've gotten, and he's definitely playing his own game."

It was enough for Prowl to relax.

"You just make sure you keep keeping your claws off," Jazz murmured, the exhaustion from the last decaorn catching up with him very suddenly after just the short walk from their berthroom to here, the recharge having been barely enough to begin to help. "Unless they come to you first. Thank you for not keeping your claws off me though." He regarded his former mentor, trying to express with his field what he was having trouble forming into words with a processor that felt sluggish and uncooperative. 

"You were the best I trained," Whiplash accepted the statement and pushed his field outward, accepting the thanks and assuring Jazz that he understood. "I'm going to miss your voice calling the political glitches out on their selfishness. Both of you." He moved the melted lead and thallium mix off the heat and shut the burners down before pouring the sweetener into two cubes of energon and pushed them towards the old pair that were much younger than he was. "You gave Cybertron a future, with your creations."

"We tried," Jazz said with a ghost of a smirk. "Woulda had more." 

"You would have repopulated Cybertron on your own with the right circumstances," Whiplash chuckled, jumping onto a perch on the counter across from them and sipping his own cube while they tasted theirs. They brightened immediately. 

"This is really good," Jazz said, and Whiplash let his armor ruffle in mock irritation at the surprise in his former student's voice. 

Prowl gave a frame-hum of approval and appreciation as well. ~Get the recipe, if you don't know it. I can taste this.~

~I will, love,~ Jazz said, leaning over to nuzzle him carefully, not putting too much force behind it. ~I'll see what else he has too. Nightdrop's all but volunteered to cook and come over whenever we need.~

"You two are impossible, you know that?" Whiplash grumbled good naturedly as he watched them. "As long as you've been together you still act like mechlings on their first crush."

~I like it that way,~ Prowl purred to his love as he sipped his energon a bit more eagerly than usual. ~We are good together.~

"We are good together," Jazz agreed, before looking at Whiplash. "Thank you. You're staying until later?" 

"It is later, they'll be here soon," Whiplash said gently. "I wanted to make sure you had fuel in you."

Jazz nodded despite a bit of surprise. "It gets harder to boot up every orn," he admitted quietly, gladly being the support for his mate as Prowl leaned over to nuzzle him and kind of needed the solid form to keep from leaning over too far. There was apology and relief in the bond. "Honestly never expected it to end this way. Our kind just don't deactivate quietly in their berth of old age."

~It's nice though, being ready when it happens,~ Prowl murmured.

~It is, I think,~ Jazz agreed, as Whiplash hummed thoughtfully. 

"It might not be bad, for our kind to learn that," the minibot mused. "A symptom of a healthy planet."

"Somehow I don't think SpecOps would be right if it wasn't about living fast and expecting to deactivate young," Jazz chuckled mirthlessly.

"What's this about deactivating young?" Nightdrop asked as he entered the living room followed by his older brothers who were also coming to the small family grouping, noting the three mecha there and how much Prowl had seemed to age just in an orn.

"SpecOps," Jazz brought him up to speed. "Not one of those functions where you expected to last long."

"Yet I know four," Nightdrop cocked his helm, not really arguing.

"Four out of many thousands," Whiplash told him. "Many, many thousands. Jazz is right. It's a rare mecha that survives a single millennia, though many of those go on to see ten."

"Wasn't that ... painful?" Nightdrop asked carefully as he sat down on the end of a lounge that Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and Mirage were settling on. The Aerial twins walked in after Luminous, who looked at his younger brother curiously. 

"Wasn't what painful?" the third eldest of the creations asked. 

"Losing agents," Nightdrop said. "When he was the commander of SpecOps."

"It was," Whiplash acknowledged. "But that's how things are. Death comes with life, sometimes before we're ready. One of the reasons so few lasted is the simple fact that part of our job is to choose when that was for others, including our own."

"...Your own?" Nightdrop asked, sounding a touch horrified. "You killed your own?" 

Whiplash sent a quick glance and rapid query to the young mech's creators, seeking their permission to continue down the line of questioning. They both nodded to him. Hiding this part of their history did no good. 

"Yes," the matte black mech said, looking back. "Sometimes I killed my own. When I deemed their pain too great, or their damage irreparable, I took my own. I considered it for your creators, once, after I found out what happened to them. If I'd seen them sooner after the fact, I might have even done it, out of mercy."

"After Praxus?" Luminous asked, all too aware that such a statement could refer to several times in his creator's past. Whiplash flicked his armor in an affirmative.

"Wait, back up." Ripcord fluffed his armor and flared his wings, flashing the Cybertron Air Defense Force insignia proudly embossed on them. "You would have _killed our creators_ as a _mercy?_ " His gaze flicked to the elder couple. "And you're _okay with that?_ "

Jazz and Prowl looked at their creation mildly. "Yes," Jazz answered for them, like it was the simplest answer in the world. "It would have been a mercy. That was our way."

Four pairs of optics locked onto Mirage, then the twins he was bonded to.

"Yes, it is," Mirage answered the silent question. "We all made those choices. Sometimes in the field, sometimes after we got them back. During war, it was a common practice among most divisions, not just SpecOps."

~I think I like that they're so horrified,~ Prowl commented mildly.

~Those protocols don't belong in the world anymore,~ Jazz murmured. ~We're all relics, lover.~

~Yes, though there will always be some need for them. The very fact that Whiplash still has his function proves that. They will, once more, disappear from common knowledge.~ Prowl smiled fondly and sipped his energon, the cube cupped in both hands. ~I like that we are relics, and about to be gone. I cannot thank you enough for letting me, us, go.~

~It's almost time,~ Jazz murmured, with a soft sigh. ~I've always looked forward to the rest at the end.~ 

They leaned together, optics dimming down as they faded into a light recharge. When they booted back up, their creations were smiling fondly.

"How long?" Jazz asked.

"Just a few kliks," Luminous said. "We thought maybe..."

"No, it isn't time yet," Jazz said. "We'll know."

"Is that how it'll happen? You'll slip into recharge and just ... not boot up?" Zephyr asked.

"Does anyone even know how old mecha extinguish anymore?" his twin Ripcord asked, shifting uneasily. Even though Ripcord was the most familiar with death of the post-war generations, it had never been so personal before.

Jazz hummed quietly. "Ratchet went that way, and Wheeljack. Lot of the Autobots that survived the war chose it. Slipped into recharge and never came out. Ratchet's theory was that a spark knows when it's old enough to go and the frame deteriorates with it until it just ... stops. Not how we're going, though," he turned to brush his chevron against his mate's.

"You aren't?" Nightdrop shifted uneasily.

"Why not?" Zephyr asked. "It sounds like a good way to go."

"I'm sure," Jazz said, his focus still almost completely on Prowl, who purred and nuzzled back, lost in the contact. "We considered a lot of ideas. Waiting until we could tell we won't boot and having our family with us as we shut down. Flying a shuttle into the closest sun. Cutting our lines in a hot oil pool, or a dagger to the spark. We're going to go out merged."

"Why not the first one? Why extinguish before you have to?" Ripcord asked, his wings quivering.

"I think it's romantic," Mirage smiled.

"That was the goal," Jazz said with a smile for his adopted creation before shifting his gaze to the flier he'd carried. "We don't want you to see us while we linger. We don't want to linger at all. Lose massive processor functioning, mobility. It'll be fast. A program, virus, that we can activate when we want, and it'll be quick. We want you remember us like this."

~We've already degraded a lot,~ Prowl muttered. ~Been vorns since I felt prepared to take over being SIC again.~

"So I'll just check one orn, and you'll be gray?" Nightdrop asked, uneasy even as he was relieved that they wouldn't suffer lingering. He knew all too well how much being crippled terrified his carrier. In a way, he was almost surprised Prowl had agreed to be this far gone first.

~I know,~ Jazz said, sighing softly, with subharmonics of gratitude that Prowl had waited for him to be ready. "You'll know," he told Nightdrop. "We'll send notice. It won't be very long, we were waiting to say goodbye to everyone. What a luxury," he said, voice distant and thoughtful. 

"Thank you," Nightdrop relaxed a bit now that he knew he'd be able to prepare himself for what he'd see.

"Too many did not have that comfort," Whiplash said. "More will now." 

"Did you write the virus?" Sideswipe asked curiously. 

"Whiplash gave it to us," Jazz said with a warm smile.

"It's a fairly standard pleasure-deactivation one, edited to take two frames at once and be triggered on internal command," Whiplash added. "It's well-proven to be a fast and pleasant way to go. More so with a frail frame and a spark that's ready to go."

~I think that would be the way I would choose,~ Mirage told his mates. ~But you ... would you want to go down fighting?~

They rumbled softly in contemplation. 

~We always thought that's how it would be,~ Sunstreaker said, watching as Luminous moved to wrap an arm around Prowl's shoulder and brought his carrier to lean on him when Jazz began to look tired. 

~Dunno how we'd even get a fight to deactivate in,~ Sideswipe mused. ~Short of starting a barfight. Or going off world.~

~Plenty of time to figure it out,~ Sunstreaker said.

~It will not be difficult, if that truly is your wish,~ Mirage told them as he snuggled between them, along with a sense that he was already well aware of several ways. ~It will be some time before it comes to a choice. To end in the act they were denied for so long is fitting.~

~I always figured they'd go out fragging in some way,~ Sideswipe snickered.

~And they will,~ Sunstreaker mused with a mixture of amusement and amazement. ~Hard to believe they outlasted pretty much everybody.~

~They could have outlasted everyone if they'd wished,~ Mirage pointed out. ~They simply did not wish to. Whiplash is far older than either of them. He's older than Ironhide would be, if his records are even close to correct.~

~He must be one of the very last of the pre-progs,~ Sideswipe said. ~Wonder what that feels like.~

~Probably no different than what it felt like being one of many pre-progs,~ Sunstreaker said with a shrug. 

"Hey, Whiplash. How'd you last so long?" Sideswipe suddenly spoke up. "I mean, you're older than anybody still functioning, I think. I thought pre-progs were supposed to have a short existence."

"Pre-progs aren't _supposed_ to have a short existence," Whiplash said with a chuckle. "A pre-prog can last as long as anyone with proper maintenance. A well-built frame from the start doesn't hurt, either," he gestured at his own. "Aging is 90% mental. Pre-progs got the reputation for deactivating early because their sparks didn't match the frame programming they were sparked into. Usually. Imagine being a spark that wanted one mate for life forced into the frame of a pleasurebot. My spark and function, though," the lithe minibot purred deeply, "Match perfectly. And I was lucky enough to continue to be valuable and skilled and wanted. The short life span for many had more to do with being tossed out like so much waste." 

The youngest mecha in the room were staring at him. 

"...Pleasurebot?" Nightdrop asked. "Is that what it sounds like?"

"A mecha designed from the core out to provide an overload on demand to any who paid their price," Mirage answered simply. "The best were _artists_ at it and adored their function, much as Whiplash does. The kind I dealt with as a youth were among them. In the lower levels orders were not filled so carefully and it could be a cruel existence."

"Though even the worst off of the pleasurebots were better off than buymecha," Jazz added. "Those did the same thing, but were just mecha who were so desperate for credits that they sold the only thing they had. The use of their frame. At least all pleasurebots came with protocols to help them enjoy their function even if their spark wasn't always in it."

"Sounds miserable," Nightdrop said, frowning. The new generations had not taken well to the idea of a pre-programmed function, just as Optimus Prime had wanted it.

"They weren't all that different from this era's professional escorts," Mirage hummed. "You have those in your club." 

"Yes, but they _choose_ to do it," Nightdrop said. "Because they want to." 

Jazz smiled faintly. "Different world now."

"A much better world," Whiplash surprised several of them with the strength of his statement. "I love my function, but it's good to only deal with really broken sparks. The real test for our species and this new government is going to be when we need to level out our population. Right now having many creations is encouraged. I fully expect to be around to see how the transition to only having one or two at most goes down. It won't be pretty."

Jazz hummed, looking at his creations with warm optics. "I'm just glad that we had all of you before that happened." He looked at Whiplash. "Just glad you'll be around to remind everyone of what we did wrong." 

Whiplash nodded. "There's plenty of muttering in the power-hungry political spheres about how much easier it'll be to make policy when you two are gone. I intend to make sure it isn't." 

"I'll help," Luminous purred. "So will everyone else." He squeezed Prowl's hand warmly. "You're leaving a powerful legacy."

"Thank you," the ancient Praxian's vocalizer crackled and hissed with static from lack of use. It had been vorns since Prowl had used it much. Not since their youngest had upgraded to his adult frame.

"We have no intention of being quiet either, and you know Nocturne, Soundwave and Blaster will give them no end of grief if they go the wrong direction," Mirage gave a savage grin more suited to his mates. "We've broken politicians before, we will again."

"Literally," Sunstreaker snickered, while his twin matched Mirage's grin. 

The small gathering shifted to more casual conversation--the most recent creations, whose separation would be next, frame trends, how mates and the mates of creations and businesses were doing--long into the night. When morning came, the room lulled into silence. 

"I think it's time to go," Whiplash said quietly, when no one else looked willing to. 

"I think so," Mirage echoed, and was the first to stand. His mates followed him as he pulled Jazz up into a tight hug. "Thank you," he whispered. "You deserve your rest." 

Jazz nodded against his shoulder as the twins each embraced Prowl, careful of the strength they used on the frail mech. Luminous watched quietly, his doorwings drooped down. Ripcord and Zephyr stood to wait their turn when Nightdrop moved to embrace and whisper a few words of thanks and love to each of his creators. Prowl, his smooth, rich voice long ago lost to age and disuse made the effort to _speak_ to each of them of his love and how proud he was of each. Not just in general, but something specific so there could be no doubt that he knew exactly who he was saying goodbye too and what their existence had been.

At the end, Jazz took Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's hands in his own, standing with their help. "I'm sorry," he said softly, looking up at them. The others around them stilled as they watched. 

There was no hesitation. "We forgave you long ago," Sideswipe said, as Sunstreaker embraced him carefully. Jazz melted into it. 

"We're leaving the painting to you," he said. "I suspect the Cybertron Art Gallery will want it, if you choose to leave it to them. If it's ever displayed publicly, it must be displayed with this." He handed a datapad to Sideswipe. 

The red twin skimmed through it, an essay written by both his creators, a story and a warning all at once. "It will be," he promised, squeezed Jazz's shoulder, and then stepped back with his mate. 

"Rest well, my creators," Luminous said, with a warm smile, and the others echoed him before Mirage and his mates gently herded their siblings from the home, leaving only Whiplash there.

"Will it be today?" he asked quietly as his field brushed out to two of his most remarkable agents with the kind of open affection he rarely allowed himself to feel. At the wake, they'd been considering maybe another metacycle, but the process of saying goodbye to their family and the few they called friends had aged them more in an orn than the last five vorns had.

Prowl nodded, visibly exhausted in a way no amount of energon or recharge could fix. He was ready to be done with his frame. Being unable to carry after Nightdrop and unable to even kindle in Jazz after Dreamwind had broken something in him that was fundamental to his continued health. He'd gone downhill rapidly, and a few observant mecha were surprised he'd stayed on as long as he had.

"This orn, or the next," Jazz translated smoothly. "I'm hoping Soundwave visits. If he doesn't by morning, we won't wait any longer." He paused and reached out for Whiplash. "Help us to the berth?"

The matte black minibot nodded solemnly and moved to offer his shoulder to Jazz. "We could use an extra frame," he called out to no one, only to have the air nearby shimmer to expose Mirage. The last noble did not say a thing, and neither did anyone else as he helped Prowl to his pedes and the four of them made the slow trek to the berthroom.

Once there, Prowl made a tiny sound and glanced at the hot oil pool in the washrack.

"Sure thing, lover," Jazz said with a quiet purr, and Whiplash and Mirage helped them over and in once it filled and warmed.

"Will you be able to get to berth?" Whiplash asked. 

"I'll be able to get us there," Jazz said, then looked at Mirage. "You should go be with your mates." 

"I will," Mirage said, before he kissed Jazz's forehelm, then turned to do the same for Prowl. Whiplash tweaked a chevron horn affectionately.

"We'll just be a comm away if you do relax too much," Whiplash promised, the complex harmonics of 'we' including the twins.

Prowl nodded a promise, though he was primarily focused on the pleasure of the supportive liquid heat surrounding and seeping into his joints. The effect on his field radiated for them all to feel.

"We'll comm if we need help," Jazz added to the promise and watched as his surrogate creator and eldest adoptive creation left them.

~You know 'Raj isn't going anywhere,~ Prowl chuckled softly. ~I expect Whiplash will be settled in a guest room within the breem as well,~ he added, murmuring in good humor. Along with it came a strong sense of awe and appreciation that these mecha cared enough about them to guard them even when they knew the pair would be gray shells within an orn.

~I know,~ Jazz murmured, touching Prowl's face and bringing him around for a gentle kiss that Prowl responded to more eagerly over the bond than with his frame. The desire was there, but Prowl's frame was no longer agreeable to the energy expenditure. ~I love you. Thank you for waiting. It won't be more than a full orn.~

~I've lasted this long, I can manage until everything is done,~ Prowl sank fully under the oil, relishing the heat and support for his frame. ~Soundwave is likely to come within the joor. I saw Laserbeak, and I believe I teeked Ravage today. It's strange to feel closer to a former enemy than the current Prime.~

~I believe Nocturne helped with that,~ Jazz said with a soft laugh. ~I can't believe you didn't crash to this orn.~

Amusement and deep affection flowed over the bond. ~How he presented it helped a great deal. I knew he was loved and loved the mech. I knew he expected it to be a shock and quite possibly a problem. I had it down to four designations before he said who had stolen his spark. They've made an exceptional pairing, personally and politically.~

~It helps that Soundwave is a rational creature, too,~ Jazz murmured, as he echoed the feeling of the strange kinship for the once TIC of their enemies. He was repeating himself, and he knew it, but couldn't bring himself to care. It made time pass. ~His fault was loyalty, but when applied to Nocturne it's not a bad thing. And ... he understands, how things were. The world we lived in.~ 

~The world we all fought hard to destroy, even if on opposite sides,~ Prowl murmured. ~Honor is honor. Loyalty is loyalty. Logic and critical thinking transcend philosophy. Soundwave is a good mech. Always was, even when he was our top target.~

~Mech was too good for us,~ Jazz said with a gentle nuzzle. ~We were too good for him. Glad we didn't get him.~ He sighed in relaxation, then laughed. ~Here I am, alone with you, hot and oiled up and your armor all loose and I'm okay with not fragging you senseless. Think that's how I know it's almost over.~

~Agreed. My spark wants you. My frame does not have the ability to desire anymore,~ Prowl agreed. ~And ... I do not have it in me to object.~ He paused, thoughtful and grieving softly. ~I knew when we could not kindle again that no amount of will or desire to continue would help. Your spark had sustained mine for too long. Both were weakening quickly, even if we did not feel it in our frames yet.~

~Radiance loved Praxus,~ Jazz whispered. ~He gave his life for this city. As soon as we couldn't help rebuild in any way that others could not take up...~ He trailed off, processor going blank for a moment before he shook himself out of it. ~Was I gone long?~

~No,~ Prowl hummed with affection. ~We will join him soon.~

Jazz trilled softly. Whether it was the Well or oblivion, they would be with their mate, and be glad for it. Memories pulled up, from long ago, ages, lifetimes, another world, the taste of the happiest life they could have imagined before it was ripped away. Prowl was pulled in with him and they didn't know how long they stayed there, motionless, before movement in the room drew their sluggish attention and they looked up to see Soundwave standing there. Nocturne was not far behind, lingering in the doorway. 

"Jazz and Prowl: to deactivate soon," the host said. 

"Yes," Jazz said. 

"Soundwave: understood presence was desired here."

 _Yes._ Prowl pushed the thought to the fore of his mind and reluctantly raised himself above the oil and offered a wrist port to the telepath. _Him too._

"Nocturne," Soundwave summoned, and the designation sounded like a caress as he spoke it. Nocturne approached and knelt before his creators, joining into the hardline that Soundwave connected all four mecha into. 

~My dearest,~ Jazz whispered to his creation as he pushed over all the love that they felt, the uniqueness that was Nocturne to him, not his first creation but the first sired by his love and lifelong mate. His attention shifted to Soundwave. ~Only six mecha alive today remember the way it was. Soon it will be four. We've taught him why it went wrong, take care of him so he can tell the world. It _can't_ be like before.~

~Not while Soundwave functions,~ the telepath promised.

~I will show you anything you wish.~ Prowl offered simply to the pair that were his legacy in a way.

In response, Soundwave pressed forward, into processors he had once spent entire metacycles dedicated to the capture and reading of, sweeping through their combined knowledge, their lives, taking the lessons learned and adding them to his own. There was little difference, but they'd existed in a different world than he had, and there was always value to be found in diversity of thought. ~Thank you,~ he said once he had finished. 

~You're welcome,~ Jazz murmured, teeking dazed. He looked to Nocturne. ~When Mirage is gone...~

~I will take the head of the family,~ Nocturne said, lifting his carrier's hands to kiss the knuckles, then reaching for his sire's for the same. ~I will care for them.~

~Watch over Luminous,~ Prowl said. ~He does not evaluate risk as well as he should for his position.~

~Always,~ Nocturne promised with affection and a gentle smile for his older brother. ~That will never change.~

~Of all our creations, you will survive turmoil the best,~ Prowl's processors were sharper than his frame indicated, at least when he felt the value in turning them all on. ~You will watch it come and know it for what it is. Evaluate the leaders you follow.~ He shifted focus to Nocturne's mate, still speaking to his creation. ~As you love him, guard him from himself. His loyalty should have destroyed him with the war's end.~ Soundwave once more felt the potent force that was Prowl's full processors, now speaking to him. ~My tac-net, Jazz's sorcelling. Put them to good use. Do not allow them to remain in our frames. It must not fall into the wrong hands.~

~Soundwave: understands,~ the host murmured, as Nocturne pressed another kiss in promise. ~Soundwave: is grateful to Prowl and Jazz for eluding his capture during the war. Nocturne: is solace.~

~Nocturne is your responsibility now,~ Jazz said firmly, but still with a touch of his trademark humor. ~Don't make us come back from the Well to take care of things.~

~Jazz....~ Prowl's exasperated sigh was full of fondness rather than objection. ~Soundwave's as loyal as we are. Besides. He's kin. Has been for a long time. Nocturne ... was there anything you wish to know? Anything you wish from us, other than more time? I know you've seen our Final Wishes.~

Nocturne nodded once. ~Whiplash will recover the tac-net and sorcelling tech?~

~Yes,~ his creators said in unison. 

~He will be signaled when the virus activates,~ Prowl said. ~He had better give both to you.~

Another nod. ~Are you content?~ Nocturne asked. 

There was a pause as they considered the question. ~We will be,~ Jazz finally said.

~One way or another, we will finally be triad again,~ Prowl said with a wistfulness he rarely indulged in. ~It will be nice to no longer be tired, broken, incomplete.~ He considered his creation and caressed those powerful processors with his own. ~Do you remember how often I made you talk to the tac-net's AI?~

Nocturne shivered. ~It was creepy, until I understood her.~

~Her?~ Prowl perked up, curious at the assessment.

~Just what it felt like, a her. Once I got over the freaking out over _something else_ controlling my sire's frame.~

~I did that because I always intended it to go to you, if you wanted it,~ Prowl said softly. ~But to use it, you have to get along with the AI.~

Soundwave mentally caressed his startled mate, unsurprised by that knowledge, helping Nocturne move past the initial shock to respond as quickly as possible. Time was running out, and rapidly. The pair already teeked wearier than when he'd arrived. Soundwave doubted they would witness the dawn, whether or not they used the suicide program they'd installed. It was a long way to go so quickly, from the metacycle or two they'd expected when the living wake began to a handful of joors now, only nine orns later.

~If I need the software, I feel comfortable using it,~ Nocturne said. ~I want to keep the planet safe enough without if I can.~

~Soundwave: will help judge need,~ the host promised. 

~Thank you,~ Jazz murmured, sinking down into the oil a little further. ~Nocturne...~

~I know,~ Nocturne said, his field unsteady, but calm. ~Go, rest.~

~Prowl, Jazz: should lay on the berth.~ Soundwave said, gentler than most would think him capable of. ~Unless merge intended here?~

~No, but we'll manage,~ Jazz said, lifting his arm to caress his creation one more time. ~We love you.~

~So much,~ Prowl said. ~Til all are one.~

~Til all are one,~ Nocturne said, kissed them both, then broke the hardline connection and stood, leaving with his mate. 

~Hope you realize this means you're stuck seeing only my face for the rest of your life,~ Jazz said with good humor over the bond. ~Can you make it to the berth with my help?~

~I will, and nothing will please me more,~ Prowl struggled to get out of the pool. It was nothing like the grace he had long displayed. This was awkward, painful to watch, not much better to help, but angles and leverage eventually got the panting mech on the floor of the washrack with his mate only slightly less drained. ~Just a few kliks to recover. Then the berth,~ Prowl said with all the tenacity that had kept him alive and strong for so long and through so much.

Jazz nuzzled him gratefully, and when they had regained their strength they moved to stand. Jazz helped and they made their way over to their berth, the place where they'd kindled most--but not all--of their creations. The black and gold whip was laid out in the middle, perfectly centered and curved. Prowl sank down into the padding, the finest credits could buy, and his systems began to slow.

It took Jazz three kliks to walk around the other side and climb on, pressing up as a mirror image to his lover. As their chevrons and the triad engravings came flush, he slipped his hand around the well-loved whip and snaked it around Prowl's neck, then his own. 

~A few joors,~ Jazz murmured, slipping their fingers together around the handle.

~Yes,~ Prowl audibly groaned in relieved anticipation. ~Love you. Thank you.~

For being there, for loving him, for accepting Radiance when triad coding _Jazz didn't have_ had kicked in, for siring and carrying so many creations, for adopting Bluestreak when he came into Prowl's life, for adopting Smokescreen, for making peace with the twins, and so much more. 

~Love you always,~ Jazz murmured with a quiet, relieved sigh of his own. They settled into silence, fields meshed into one, growing completely still as they enjoyed these final peaceful moments of being together.

Some joors into the night Jazz lifted his head and powered his visor back on. ~Prowl ... I'm tired.~

With only a brush of affection, understanding, acceptance and gratitude in reply, Prowl ordered his chest plates to open. Despite the objections of mechanisms that were degrading as fast as the spark that powered them, Prowl's pale blue spark came into view. It flickered more than pulsed now, dim and weak, and yet it still surged in anticipation of being one with its mate.

Jazz's was right there to answer it, wrapping around and holding as they slipped easily into the complete merge. With a thought, Prowl activated the virus that would claim their frames upon overload. Their properties transferred, a background script set up to ping Whiplash when they deactivated, their accounts were settled and transferred to their creations. Prowl's game stopped running for the first time since it had activated. Connections severed. Their lives were, for all practical purposes, ended. 

All that remained was the merge, and the end. 

For mecha who'd survived as long as they had, survived all the trials they had, it was an end no one had really expected. The idea that such mecha might _give up_ and just lie down and deactivate was just as incomprehensible only a century before to the couple doing so now.

Their frames already forgotten, they were lost in the pleasure of this intimacy so long denied them. Memories, all of them good, of things they hoped to remember in the Well and share with Radiance flowed back and forth. They both knew them all, loved them all and wanted their long absent third to be proud of them despite their choice to continue living without him.

The overload was barely noticed. Neither were the fading of memories as their sparks exploded outward, dissipating from the solid physical realm and shifting to the domain in the core of their homeworld where their living god, the source of all sparks, resided.

* * *

When Prowl found his awareness opened forward, and realized he was alone, no Jazz, no bond, no Radiance, no oblivion, no _anything_ \--the spark panicked, struggled, twisted in a moment of awful agony to realize that _this_ was the end--solitude and eternity--

Hate and betrayal, _learned behaviors_ , surged to the forefront, completely transforming the naturally calm and nurturing spark into one to fear for its ability and absolute willingness to destroy anything it came across.

Then there was _Presence_.

**Calm.**

Pain flared up to highlight the rage, yet none of it was directed at the powerful being he knew was the one he'd long ago felt in the healing merges with Optimus Prime. That being had not lied to him, hurt him or lead him astray. He did not _like_ or _trust_ that being, but it was not its fault that Prowl was facing the one thing he had not anticipated.

Prowl belatedly stilled, recognized the presence, and obeyed.

He waited, his spark sinking into a near-stasis-like state that was the only way he could _calm_ with what he was feeling. No thought, no emotions, no credible awareness of his own. He existed, and nothing more.

Warmth and _love_ touched him, everything he'd always felt with Optimus but _more_ , and he made no effort to resist it. Curling out of the self-induced torpor, Prowl basked in the love, accepting it, welcoming it, craving it.

**For the sake of the other pieces of your spark, you are being offered a choice that few receive. They would suffer from your loss. Rarely do my creations with bonds such as yours differ so much in what they believe.**

~I could dissipate, have oblivion, if I choose?~ Prowl asked cautiously. ~What are the other choices?~

 **Infinite,** the voice rumbled. **Sparks come to trust in many things. One of you trusts in me, one of you trusts in pain, and you have trusted in oblivion. In the end, two parts will be together. You may join them, because they have trusted in you.**

Prowl was still and silent. With programming gone, hardware gone, and just the memories and reactions of his spark to go on, he was torn. A very large and strong part of him wanted oblivion. Was desperate to never think, feel or _be_. To have the ultimate end, a peace that could not be taken away.

Yet just as strong was the part that loved his mates, his second and third, and rejoiced at the idea of being with them again. It argued the part that wanted peace down as it always had: the end can come later. It can always come later. Take joy when you can, survive pain knowing that it can be ended at will.

At will?

It wasn't truly a question directed at the presence, but it was. Prowl wished to know if pain became too great whether he could end himself and dissipate.

A careful caress. **You will not feel pain. You should not feel pain. There is a limited awareness. Memories but not like your physical existence. It has never happened before, but should you wish oblivion, you will have it. Your entire spark would follow.**

Trust in _this_ voice, no matter what it went by or why, had been built in those healing merges centuries ago and Prowl allowed himself to be comforted, reassured, and to believe.

~I would be with them.~ Prowl chose, shoving the part of himself that had learned not to trust down. This being had earned his trust. What was being offered was very much what he desired. It was worth the risk of it being a lie. It was worth the risk of ... of peace in oblivion, even.

 **One is not ready yet, but I will take you to the other. He has been waiting for a long time.** A gentle tug that Prowl could not have resisted if he'd wanted and then he felt the presence of others around him. His spark recognized his carrier's first and he could not help but to brush against it, warm in the memories of a mech who loved him despite the lack of love in his creation.

More followed, sparks he'd known in his long life, touching with warm affection. Some were missing, but he didn't feel grief for their absence, but peace that they had found the end they desired. At the end of it, when he could feel trillions around him and understood that this was the Well, golden light came _zooming_ towards him with a bright and brilliant trill, whizzing around so fast that it became a single blurr. ~Here with me here with me here with me!~ it sang, with the knowledge that the wait had been _long_ , feeling all of it in a single, agony-filled moment before their sparks collided.

Prowl said nothing in response. He simply accepted his third into him with all the love and longing he'd felt in those long, long vorns since their home had been destroyed. He took the pain, absorbed it and stroked the part of his spark that had been missing for so long, assuring spark-Radiance that all was well, all would be well, and the long, lonely wait was over. Jazz, their third, would join them. Radiance was no longer alone.

In reassuring his love, Prowl felt his desire to dissipate fall away. Radiance brought peace, love. Radiance wasn't part of a lifetime of pain, damage, hurt, rejection and betrayal. As much as Prowl loved Jazz, there was no way to completely separate Jazz from the nightmares they'd suffered for each other.

Radiance felt all over, found the new scars since he'd last _touched_ this spark, pressed a kiss of energy to each and every one. ~My love, my love, my love,~ he whispered. ~My sweet love, let me hold you.~

~Always,~ Prowl's moan of a response was thick with the relief at having his center, the morals and healer of their triad back. He all but fell into the golden light, gratefully surrendering completely to the embrace, pressing towards the other how much he had been missed, how glad Prowl was to have him back, promises that they would be together, stronger and safe.

It all came echoing back, just as strong, if not stronger, and there was joy, questions, a desire that was more than words to _share_. Faint memories were coming back after the hazy, peaceful floating and Radiance wanted to know everything. Wanted to feel their lives. 

Wanted to feel _them_. 

Quiet longing, reaching, searching, _wanting_.

~He will come,~ Prowl promised in a whisper, and then opened up completely, offering everything he knew but trying to shield his love from the worst of the details. He wanted to focus on what happened after the war, on the life and creations he and Jazz had kindled and raised. Each unique, some strong, some soft, a few with the fire and strength to shape the future directly. The visions of Praxus, of the new Helix Garden, built from the rubble that Jazz and Prowl and a handful of survivors had walked out of the shuttle to find to the glittering proto-city they had entrusted to their creations.

~Beautiful, all of them beautiful,~ Radiance purred, joy for everything they'd shared without him, a complete, all-encompassing sense of peace that came from this place, peace for their lives. Acceptance, love, _excitement_ to know and feel when they were whole again. 

Because Radiance trusted in that. He trusted in an eternity with his bondmates. He trusted in Primus to grant them this End. That trust had been strong enough to pull Prowl from his own desires, it would be strong enough to pull Jazz back from his Pit.

* * *

As good as it was to have a creation, that tiny mote of _himself_ , return, there were a few whose return he did not look forward to, the process of helping them cope with their existence in a frame. The spark coming shortly after his bonded mate was one of those motes.

**Jazz**

Bright, full of life and energy and love for living, and tortured by what he had done in the name of survival and his mate in a way that demanded retribution for his crimes. When such retribution did not come from mortal authorities, it fell to Primus to fill the need of his creation until there was peace enough to join the others.

**Jazz**

Part of a triad that was as strange as any. Three sparks had become one, yet between them there were three expectations for the After. The first had been easy, soothed by a limited sense of self and time. The second expected oblivion, a gift Primus would have gladly granted it but for the hurt it would cause the others. It was a joy for the great spark at the center of Cybertron that Prowl chose to join his long-absent mate.

Now it was time to deal with a spark that had twisted itself into a mass of pain, pleading to be hurt, to be punished, when all its creator wished to do was embrace and soothe.

 **JAZZ**

The spark flickered, startled, and raised its awareness. It had been suffering a deactivation over and over, simply the pain of knowing death was coming and not being able to stop it before a burst of agony before the end. 

**Have you paid?**

_No._

He knew that would be the answer for many, many eternities. The spark only responded to him when it felt it had suffered one deactivation sufficiently. 

The next began. This one had pain. 

Long, drawn out, and very intimate. Begging, pleading, screaming when it could no longer form coherent sounds. Being repaired only to have the pain come back, again and again. Forced to overload to the agony. Forced to listen to sweet words that only brought more hurt to the physical wounds.

Primus recognized too many of these ends from the sparks he'd comforted on their return to him. Some so damaged they barely made it before dispersing. Others content to accept his comfort and linger in the Well at the core of his spark.

The great being wished there was another way. Some, he understood all too well, only responded to pain. Some, like this one, needed absolution from within and there was little to be done to hurry the healing along.

It was too bright, too independent. He still remembered the orn it had been pulled to a frame, ready for _life_. Knew it might have been without its physical enslavement. 

**Have you paid?**

_No._

Primus knew he couldn't comfort, couldn't do anything to hurry the penance along except to make the pain vivid, everything that the spark imagined for its victims. 

So he made it worse. _Hurt_ over and over, drew out the pain again and again, a thousand deactivations and still it felt like none at all so ten thousand more. 

**Have you paid?**

_No._

The screams of the victims it was remembering had felt like nothing compared to this. Primus had known they would soon be drawn back into his healing fold. This one would be many ages more. 

Finally the great being felt hope. The impossibly long list of crimes had dwindled to two. One young, one not even fully formed. The pair was bound together and Primus recognized this event all too well. The half-formed spark had dissipated on its return, too traumatized to continue. It was a mercy, and Primus felt no sadness. The energy of that beautiful spark was still part of him, as were all who did not inhabit a frame.

Jazz relived the torments inflicted upon those two sparks longer than any, and the terror of the newspark lasted longer than the rest combined. His creation screamed and struggled, caught in a vortex of unknown trauma, of non-comprehension of the pain, of the final moments of knowing that one most beloved and dear would perish in terrible pain and humiliation, _and not understanding why._

It was agony. 

The wails of the newspark formed into a designation that went around and around and around, _Skywatch_ , until the spark in the center of it all was shrunken and shuddering, barely coherent. 

_Skywatch!_

**Jazz**

_Skywatch--_

**Jazz**

_Skywa..._

**Have you paid?**

_..._

It didn't want to answer, Primus could tell that much. But he knew the answer before it was spoken, knew what the spark had thought it would never deserve. 

_Yes._

Finally.

 _Finally_ he could embrace this creation that he loved and soothe it, give it strength and nourish it as it recovered from what it had needed to move on.

**Jazz. My bright one. Welcome. Your penance is complete.**

Hard, almost painful spasms of relief went through that spark and it flickered to him in wanting and acceptance of the comfort. 

There was one question, _Where?_

**The Well of All Sparks, within me.**

_Confusionwonder_ flooded out to him as the spark rested there, taking the support, regaining its strength. There was an overwhelming feeling of _freedom_ coming from it as time went on, freedom from its crimes, the courage to ask for something it had never asked before. Still too weak to speak, the spark flickered out a question. 

Primus caressed back. **You are forgiven.** There was no other answer. 

_Relief_. 

Primus waited and held until the Jazz was strong enough to push outward, searching. ~Prowl, Radiance?~ he questioned.

**Waiting for you. Prowl chose to remain with Radiance.**

_Want_ more powerful than any of the guilt surged out, but Jazz stayed with him instead of following the path that Primus knew he could now feel. ~Vortex?~

 **He is with me,** Primus said. He was at that moment holding the savagely damaged spark in another part of his being, doing what he could to heal what the frame had done to it before drawing the energy back into himself. **Every one of my creations comes back to me.**

~Will ... can he hurt us again?~

 **No,** Primus soothed. **Nothing can hurt you here. He did not trust in an After. He will at last know peace and acceptance, and that will be his End.**

~Prowl didn't believe either....~ Jazz hesitated, not wanting to trigger something that would take his love away, but still needing to know why the rules were enforced differently.

 **Radiance did.** And Primus could not hide the affection he felt for that mote as he spoke the designation it had chosen for physical existence. **He trusted that the other two pieces of his spark would join him in the After. His last moment of physical life was Prowl promising so, and so he believed. It is rare that sparks bonded so closely should believe so differently. Prowl was given knowledge, and a choice.**

~And he chose to stay,~ Jazz's statement was filled with wonder, knowing what he did of Prowl's desires and the reasons for them. ~I ... I can join them?~

**Yes. They are waiting. They want you with them. You will finally be One.**

This time Jazz did follow the path to his mates, only absently noting the presence of _others_ as he zeroed in on the only two that mattered in this moment and how eagerly they were rushing to greet them.

~Back. Back. You came back!~ Radiance's joy was wild and intense, a dramatic difference from the calm joy of Prowl's embrace.

Jazz returned the embrace and then trilled joyfully to Radiance as their sparks danced around each other, darting and curious and vivid in a way their grounding third wasn't. They sank into each other and shudders of pure, overwhelming bliss filled them for their first merge. Not the overload of a physical frame, but a transcendental moment of existence. 

~You waited,~ Jazz said, just as joyful. 

~I would wait forever,~ Radiance promised him, sharp throbs of pleasure pulsing out. ~My lovely Jazz, my beautiful Prowl,~ he pulled the oldest spark into their merge. He had trusted, and waited, and now they were here. Now they were One. He asked for their lives again, they shared them in full. 

Above, surrounding, within, Primus watched their bliss, as bright as the stars. 

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom: Transformers G1 Historical AU  
> Author: gatekat, Vaevade on LJ  
> Pairings: Jazz/Prowl, Jazz/Vortex, Prowl/Vortex
> 
> Rating: NC-17  
> Codes: AU, Sticky, Spark, Bonding, Bondage, Rape, Sexual Torture, Snuff, S&M, Murder, Cannibalism, First time, prostitution, PnP
> 
> Summary: Jazz is the second creation of a Noble House that's fallen on hard times. He's promised as the subordinate mate to a wealthy commoner in exchange for a great deal of credits. It's only when he meets his future mate that things get bad.
> 
> Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page <http://www.gatekat-fics.livejournal.com/290.html>. We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read. 
> 
> FoC Vortex for looks <http://tfwiki.net/w2/images2/e/ed/FOC_Vortex.jpg>  
> Inspiration for Jazz as a noble: deleted at artist request.
> 
> Inspiration for Vortex's spike: <https://www.furaffinity.net/view/5940133/> lower one (NSFW - requires an account)  
> Inspiration for Prowl's spike: <https://www.furaffinity.net/view/8531340/> (NSFW - requires an account)
> 
> nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
> klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
> breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
> groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
> joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
> orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
> decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;  
> metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;  
> vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;  
> ::text:: comm chatter  
> ~text~ hardline/bond chatter
> 
> Prompt: [http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=12215808t12215808](http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=12215808)  
> Bot A is betrothed to bot B. For reasons of *insert plot device here* this arrangement has been made without A getting a choice in the matter and he’s very much not happy about it, but cannot get out of the deal (I’m thinking along the lines of feudal system AU here, but any plausible reason you can come up with is fine by me).
> 
> But of course A is in love with someone else. Be it an old friend, a servant, another member of his betrothed’s family, I don’t care as long as it’s someone he would never have been allowed to bond to. What I want is a secret meeting between the two of them the night before A is supposed to be bonded to B, after which they’ll probably not be able to see each other again, at least not privately. Problem is, A is a virgin and must remain so until he’s bonded but he really wants this one intimate moment with his true love, and so they explore every possible way of having sex without really having sex. If that makes sense. How this is done depends on what kind of ‘facing you go for (anything goes) and what kind of seal/proof of virginity has to remain intact, but a lot of touching and kissing is always a good start.
> 
> What I’m looking for a storm of emotions, passion, angst and desperation, the frustration from the clash between what they want to do and what they can’t do. And both are doing their damndest to pleasure the other. So, um, angsty fluff and TLC? What happens afterwards is up to author, if told at all (a bittersweet goodbye / they decide to run off together / they are caught red-handed and the lover is forced to witness the bonding between A and B?). Any characters, any faction (OP is kinda partial to Jazz/Prowl and Mirage/Hound but will gladly read ANY pairing, including rare ones). I have no squicks so if you want to take some part of this to dark places then please do, but it’s purely optional.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Lost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157712) by [BossBot97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BossBot97/pseuds/BossBot97)




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